


Stubborn Heart

by EntreNous



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Royalty, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard McCoy never figured himself for anyone's Prince Charming.  But when a planetary crisis and a bid for precious resources puts Pavel Chekov and the crew of the Enterprise in a tricky position, Leonard finds himself engaged to the not-quite-twenty-year-old newly-dubbed monarch of Regalis Prime.  Now if only he can navigate ridiculously elaborate wedding planning and try not to offend oversensitive sycophantic aliens, all without letting his fiancé know he's falling for him, maybe the situation won't turn out to be a complete disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I first dove into Star Trek fandom last spring, I never expected I would write Leonard McCoy/Pavel Chekov, much less feature the pairing in a 50K marriage-of-convenience royalty AU. But man, this idea took hold and would not leave me alone! Many thanks to wesleysgirl for her beta reading.

"Keptin," Chekov began hesitantly, looking troubled. But then, Len supposed anyone forced to wear that weird space metal bejeweled crown, which Chekov had been obliged to don as soon as the inhabitants of Regalis Prime had discovered him to be their heir apparent, might look just a little bit troubled. 

"We'll figure this out, Chekov, don't worry," Jim said. He flashed Chekov what was meant to be a reassuring grin before he returned to poring over the documents the Regalian parliament had given him and Spock a short while ago. "Actual fucking parchment," Jim had said in awe when he'd received the stack of ornately lettered and illustrated papers, clearly impressed as he drew a finger reverently along the top page. 

Spock leaned over to read Regalis Prime's ancient laws, occasionally raising his eyebrow at what Len would bet dollars to doughnuts must have been a particularly crazy passage. He wasn't too sure how Spock was supposed to be able to concentrate, standing as he was now crowded right up against their captain. Len figured a stray mote of light couldn't find its way through between them, shoulder-to-shoulder as they were. 

Over at the doorway, that poor idiot Jim insisted on calling Cupcake stood guard along with his fellow security officer Harris, each of them looking tense. And from the corridor right outside the Council Chambers where they had been given leave to have themselves a little consultation, Bones could just barely make out the murmurs of Uhura speaking calmly to a pack of advisors and politicos headed by Sebastinio, the Chief Advisor and the obsequious and officious little bastard who seemed completely to blame for all of this utter nonsense.

"I don't know what's to figure out," Bones said from his post slouched against the wall to Chekov's right. He was aware he sounded even more cranky than usual, but damn it if just this sort of planet visit where everything went FUBAR didn't bring out the worst in him. "Seems plain as day to me. The natives think the kid's their new Prince Charming. And now there's nothing for it but getting him on their fool throne if we want to avoid an interplanetary crisis."

And wouldn't you know the kid actually looked hurt at that? His big green eyes widened and his lips parted while he turned to stare at Len. Then he jerked his gaze away, mouth pressed in a thin line and chin tipped up stubbornly as though to mask some huge disappointment with put-upon resolve. Bones stifled a sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

"It is wery nice throne," Chekov said stiffly. He ought to know; he was the one perched on it like he was waiting anxiously for his coronation. To be perfectly fair, Len supposed, he pretty much was. It was a stiff-backed ornate affair, though outfitted with heaps of plush looking cushions presumably to make it comfortable. Still, Len could tell from the fact that the kid's thick accent kicked in so readily when he'd begun to speak that he was anything but relaxed about this boondoggle they'd found themselves tangled in.

"Look, just because some uncle of an uncle of yours passed through here once back in the day and had himself a little fun doesn't mean you automatically have to be their king," Bones said gruffly.

"In point of fact, Chekov's forefather sired two descendants with the soon-after reigning princess of the time, Marirena Anetina. She subsequently held the throne with her human spouse for one of the realm's more remarkable periods of prosperity," Spock corrected him blandly. 

Len rolled his eyes; always pretending to be cool as a cucumber, that Vulcan. But Len could tell from the twitches in Spock's fingers and the way his eyes narrowed slightly that the hobgoblin was caught up in the history of the romantic royal rigmarole just like the rest of them. "Still, it's not like Chekov's folks were raised up here. These aliens have got to have some other guy waiting in the wings who could be their Supreme Exalted Leader in a pinch. Someone more --" He waved his hand around impatiently. "You know. _Regalian_." 

"Because the Regalians recognize the relations of Chekov's forefather as valid claimants to the throne, whether or not they sprang from that original union with Marirena Anetina," Spock continued, "Ensign Chekov is in fact at this time considered the best candidate for Regalis Prime's succession, even given his apparent lack of Regalian blood." 

Len waved a hand in the air in both acknowledgement and dismissal of Spock's fussy emendation. "Fine." He turned to Chekov, who had been following the exchange with a worried expression. "But no matter what our Commander says, Chekov, just because your ancestor had a couple of kids when he settled down and co-signed a couple of bylaws when his wife said pretty please? Well, that doesn't mean you're obliged to take on this ruling a planet baloney if you're not interested."

"Bones is right. You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right, Chekov?" Jim asked seriously. He'd been pretty grim as soon as the Regalians had begun to blather excitedly about Chekov's full name and started to throw out highly specific questions about the teenager's ancestry. Obviously the captain was worried about Chekov feeling pressured, but Bones privately figured Jim was just an eensy bit jealous that he wasn't the one getting all the attention. He said a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn't been Jim who was apparently destined to rule over Regalis Prime because of royal bloodlines. Len couldn't imagine the shenanigans that would inevitably ensue if Jim had an orb and scepter handed to him. 

"Da," Chekov said with equal graveness. The stern expression looked silly on his stupidly gorgeous young face, but he'd obviously decided this was a damn serious situation and was bound and determined to rise to the occasion. "Yes, I mean, I understand," he corrected himself with some self-consciousness a moment later, obviously having caught his small slip back into Russian. "But -- Regalis, she is wery important to Federation interests, I think." 

"She is. It is, I mean." Jim ran a hand through his hair in agitation. Len raised his eyes heavenward so he wouldn't have to notice the way Spock's dark eyes followed the movement of Jim's fingers possessively. "But you're not some bargaining chip or a kind of item up for trade in this treaty we're hoping to broker here, Chekov," the captain went on. "If the Federation has vested interests in making their alliance with Regalis Prime, they'll find another way to make that happen besides forcing you to take up a title you had no idea you were supposed to inherit."

Chekov frowned. "They say I need only wisit twice a year, to fulfill my duties as ruler of Regalis Prime."

"For their culture's two key festivals and political assemblages," Spock confirmed. "Though they have suggested they would gratefully welcome your presence at any time, should you choose to spend any of your extended leaves planet-side." 

"But regardless of such arrangements, I would get to keep my job," Chekov clarified in a hesitant voice that betrayed how unsure he was of these sudden proposed measures. "My friends." For some reason his eyes flickered to Len, though Len imagined he was thinking of that helmsman he was practically joined at the hip with, Sulu. 

"Yeah, that seems to be the deal. At least if you said yes, aside from a few ceremonies, the rest of your time you could spend however you want," Jim confirmed. He exchanged a look with Spock and tried a smile. "For finding out you're the guy meant to head up a millennia-old monarchy, it's not exactly the worst deal in the universe." His grin slipped away as he leaned forward on the palms of his hands. "But Chekov, just remember there's absolutely no way you have to do a single part of this if you don't want."

"But the Federation," Chekov began.

"Hey, I'll answer to the brass if it comes to that," Jim interrupted him. 

"Still," Chekov said. He frowned and reached up to adjust his gaudy ornamented circlet, which had started to slip on the crown of his head. "They seemed wery excited to find I --" He paused, trying to find a word to fit the crazy situation they'd all found themselves in. "Existed," he finished uncertainly.

"And there's the problem with every single kind of monarchy right there," Len couldn't resist saying. "It's not because of anything _you've_ done, not because of your accomplishments or talents. It's just because of this rambling man uncle and that sprout-having cousin, and all the way down the line until you pinged their DNA tests saying you're their fella." 

Chekov thrust his chin in the air, once again managing to look damn stubborn. Jim shot a glare at Bones, one of those, "Did you have to knock his ice cream scoop _right off his cone_?" kinds of glowers. Even Spock looked disapproving at Len's words, though to be entirely accurate, he looked that way whenever Len said anything.

"There are reasons for monarchy," Chekov argued. "Is symbol of hope for a society sometimes. A way to bring common cause to people torn apart by strife." He scowled at Len, for all the world as though Len was the one responsible for who was dragging him into this mess. "You think I am not capable, that I could not fulfill such a wery important role?"

"Of course you could," Jim said quickly. "And that's exactly why they were wery excited -- very excited," he stumbled to correct himself quickly before Chekov could frown again. "It means a lot to them, obviously, to find someone who fits their definition of royalty after going a whole year without a ruler since their last prince passed away. So you're that Andrei Chekov guy's descendant, sure, but you're also an accomplished member of Starfleet and a promising navigator on the Command track. But no matter what, Chekov, taking this on isn't part of your job description. Absolutely no one in the galaxy is going to hold it against you if you decide you'd rather keep on being a normal guy."

"Sure, a normal guy on an interstellar spacecraft that gets taken hostage by wacky aliens on a regular basis," Len muttered.

The door to the Council Chambers opened, and Uhura entered, accompanied by their Regalian cultural expert, Ensign Rusesk. For some reason both of them looked a little wary and apologetic. A moment later Len could tell why, because right on their tail was that little so-and-so who had exclaimed in excitement over Chekov's mention of his full name and started running the family trees and genetic codes that had gotten them all in this brouhaha. 

"Gentlemen," the little humanoid exclaimed. 

"Sebastinio," Jim mouthed at Spock as if to remind him of the man's name. Never mind that the most basic medical facts about Vulcans told Leonard that they had eidetic memories and so probably didn't need prompts from their captains. Oh well, if it made Jim feel helpful (and let Spock watch Jim's lips keenly like a perverted weirdo about to attack Jim's mouth), who the hell was Len to judge?

"Your _Majesty_ ," Sebastinio added reverently to Chekov his long spindly fingers fluttering and his purple eyes widening as he approached. Before he got the words all the way out, he had even bent and bowed very low. They must have had incredibly flexible joints, Len thought in distraction as he tilted his head to observe, because the guy had practically kow-towed from a standing position. "One would hate to put any sort of pressure on you to arrive at your answer to the happy proposal we have so recently presented to you --"

"One really would," Len said meaningfully.

"Nyet, I understand," Chekov said, eager as he always was whenever someone asked him to fix everything going wrong in a crazy situation. Len could practically see his fingertips twitching for a switch to try or a calculation to run. "You are eager for resolution to bring much needed optimism to your people."

The little alien nearly bounced in place where he stood (upright by now, thank goodness). "Yes, your highness; that is exactly our circumstance! It is no surprise that you, as the heir of our exalted line of rulers, comprehend our most precious hopes immediately. We know we are asking a great deal of you, requiring you to respond within forty-eight hours. It's only that," (and here he started to wring his very long-fingered hands) "our parliament has moved for a special session to address this very issue. Meanwhile, everyone on the planet, and even our people in distant colonies wait with anticipation, with excitement, with a yearning for the joy that once again finding a sovereign will allow them should you grant our hearts' fondest wish."

"We certainly appreciate the difficulties of your situation, Sebastinio," Jim said, trying for his most charming smile. But Mister Obsequious only had attention for Chekov, purple eyes wide as he awaited the word of someone he'd met only two hours ago but apparently now considered the be all and end all of his planet's well-being.

"So we will of course ask you to extend that courtesy you initially offered and give us the entire forty-eight hours for Mr. Chekov to make his decision," Spock added.

Sebastinio hesitated, his hands in mid exultant clasp. "Ah. Well. I shall mention this obviously _completely_ unavoidable delay in answering this increasingly urgent and yea, _burning_ question shared by every member of our people to one of our members of Parliament. It is only fair that I keep them abreast of his Excellency's prudent choice to keep us waiting even longer than this interminable year we have been most regrettably leader-less and entirely without hope, while you continue to review our sacred and ancient laws." With that he glided to the still-open door, where he conferred in hushed tones with one of the Regalians waiting in the corridor. 

"Right, before we had two days, now we're delaying them," Jim murmured, probably pitching his voice low enough that he thought only Spock would hear. Too bad for him Leonard had better hearing than a barn owl. "Anyway, at least this way we can head back to the ship, figure out what all the options are." He glanced at the little clutch of Regalians that had gathered around Sebastinio, gesturing frantically to one another and not so incidentally obstructing the exit. "Wow, it kind of looks like they want us to stick around, doesn't it? Spock, they haven't blocked our transporters, have they?"

"That remains to be seen," Spock murmured back, staring at the brace of Regalians who had joined the crowd, and who appeared a bit more muscular than the rest. The two of them had on what seemed like official badges of some sort, and stood with their arms crossed over their chests. No doubt they were a version of Parliamentarian security; Len for one didn't like the looks of them one bit. 

"At the moment our communicators remain functional," Spock added, "and they have given us no indication that we are considered captives. Still, gaining a new sovereign seems an emotionally volatile issue for the Regalians. They appear reluctant to wait for an answer despite their former agreement that Ensign Chekov might require more time to decide. Caution as we proceed is recommended."

"Don't worry, kid," Bones said in an undertone as he made sure to lean in close to Chekov so Mister Kiss Up Purple Eyes and the others by the door couldn't hear. "We'll make sure we get you out of here and back to the ship so that you have a little time for all of us to figure out how to get you out of this tangle." 

"I do not consider it a 'tangle'," Chekov protested. "It is to be expected that such a people who seek a ruler for their planet make this request of me because of my family history. I am honored that they think me capable, and I will give it due consideration." Though he kept his voice soft, matching Len's volume, his eyes looked fierce, and tension vibrated from his slim frame. 

"Come on," Len growled. "You can't honestly say you want to take on something huge like this. Ruling an entire world? It's a lot of responsibility! And you're just a teenager; you should be thinking about, I don't know, who you're taking to the spring fling dance and finishing up college." Len paused. "They have spring fling dances back in Russia?"

"I have already completed my education, as you should already know," Chekov said through gritted teeth. "Besides, I am almost no longer a teenager; I am fast approaching twenty years of age. And though I am still considered young by many, my skills are of a high level, and I am adept at taking on wery many responsibilities."

"Come on, let's be serious. You're not just considered young, kiddo; you're practically a baby," Len said in frustration. "Look, I know you want to prove yourself, but there's plenty of time for that later --"

"Ladies and gentlemen," Chekov said defiantly and loudly to the room at large. "There is no need to wait longer. I think, yes, I will do it." 

At the door, the chattering Regalians became silent and trained their wide purple eyes on the throne, appearing absolutely riveted by Chekov's words. For a moment he looked self-conscious, but he cleared his throat and sat up straight, looking for all the world like he'd been born to take on just this sort of imperial role. "I will assume the throne of Regalis Prime as the Regalians have requested of me." 

Spock went very still. Next to him, Jim gaped and tightened his hold on Spock's arm. Ensign Rusesk actually gasped aloud. From her quiet conversation in the corner with the advisors, Uhura fell silent and pressed her lips together, looking worried. 

"Oh, joyful day," Sebastinio exulted, clasping his long fingers together in an exhilarated pose. While he swept back over to Chekov, the other Regalians in the room buzzed excitedly at the announcement. 

"Now see here," Bones exploded, pushing off from the wall he'd been leaning against and feeling his face flush red with impatience and frustration. It was like Chekov hadn't heard him at all -- or worse, that he'd decided the exact opposite of what Len had recommended out of pure spite. He planted himself in front of Chekov, doing his level best to block out Chekov's view of Sebastinio and the Parliamentarians. "You don't know the ins and outs of this thing yet, kid. You can't just go ahead and say never mind the torpedoes without getting some good hard facts in front of you--"

"It is most unfortunate, Doctor, but actually, he can," Spock interrupted. "The Sovereign's word on Regalis is considered not just declaration but act and deed. If Chekov declares that he will do a thing such as make a law, it is as good as done in the minds of his subjects. And because the Regalians already consider him to be their rightful royal leader, all that is needed in this circumstance is just such a declaration from him. It is why the previous rulers of Regalis Prime were known to take great care with the import of their speaking in public." Here he gave Chekov a pointed look, while Chekov bit his lip and flushed. Leonard still figured him more for angry than embarrassed, though; it seemed like the kid _really_ didn't like taking advice. 

"But we haven't had time to finish going over this thing," Jim cut in, looking wary and shaking a stack of parchments at the room in general. He grimaced at the hovering Regalians and spread his arms out in appeal. "We know how you're hoping things will turn out, and it's great that Chekov wants to help. But I'd like for him to consider all sides of the situation first --"

But their sycophantic liaison friend didn't care two hoots for anything Jim or Spock said, instead turning with a rapturous expression to Chekov. "As one of the lucky few Regalian people here to witness this marvelous pronouncement, I humbly take upon the burden of expression for our worldwide thanks for your immutable and irrevocably royal vow to undertake the mantle of most magnificent rule, your most gracious majesty. You are as the sun to our growing fields, the balm to our tender aches, the succor to our soul-deep pain --"

"The cream to your ugly red rash," Bones said, rolling his eyes.

Sebastinio glared at Bones before shifting his adoring look right back to Chekov. "The others and I shall alert the remaining Parliamentarians that you have agreed to take the throne. Of course they will humbly beseech you to undertake the sacred ceremony common to all our rulers as soon as we are able to make all appropriate preparations; it is, as I have already explained to your Communications officer, our way."

"Good," Chekov said, the very picture of stubborn determination and teenage insistence. Bones imagined he himself had looked more or less the same when he'd insisted he was going to marry Jocelyn when he had only just turned eighteen. His mother had finally thrown up her hands, sick of trying to convince him to wait even just a little longer. And look how well that bit of adolescent thick-headedness had turned out?

Then Chekov looked uncertain and added, "But I can keep my job even after the ceremony, yes?"

"Of course, sire! Your work and life may remain much as they were before, aside from the exception of your wondrous presence twice yearly at the two sacred festivals of our people, and of course any additional visits you find it in your most royal generosity to grant our humble planet."

"Wery good," Chekov said with no small amount of relief. "But -- I must ask because of the many duties my work on the ship requires -- what does this ceremony you mention involve?"

"Looks like we're in for it now," Jim said in an undertone. Spock inclined his head in reply, tilting closer to Jim in that freaky no-words-required thing the two of them had going. If the two of them weren't so wrapped up in each other, they might have spotted Uhura across the room delicately clearing her throat and subtly trying to get their attention, but nope. 

"It's probably some grand poo-bah coronation with more bells and whistles you can shake a stick at," Len grumbled; maybe that was what Uhura wanted to complain about, too. "I bet we'll all have to wear our shiny scratchy dress uniforms, and they'll kit you out in damn heavy furs and rubies that could feed a whole belt of starving planets just to hand you some ugly gilt book and a fancy cape."

"Oh, no, we have no coronation," Sebastinio said, seeming scandalized. "As your First Officer said, our ruler's word is action to us. Thus Pavel Andreievich Chekov has already taken the throne in our eyes. A ceremony to affirm this when it has already happened would be a grave insult to our monarch's authority. We would of course welcome him briefly sitting upon the throne before Parliament as they open their next session in a week's time, as a sign of his approval of their support in his governance. But that would take only minutes and require no special preparation."

"Wow, seriously? That was fast," Jim said with a grin. He was probably keen to get back to the bridge to find somewhere way more dangerous to jet off to, or maybe he had a chess tournament date with the Vulcan he was all het up about. "But hey, if Chekov's already as good as kinged, and you don't need him for your harvest festivals just yet, what is the ceremony you mentioned just a few seconds ago?"

"Why, his highness's most royal wedding, of course," Sebastinio said grandly, lurching into another one of those crazy acrobatic bows. The other Regalians nodded eagerly and murmured approvingly amongst themselves. 

Again they all fell silent. Ensign Rusesk appeared suddenly terrified, as though she were a Cadet 4th Class who had forgotten every last bit of the course material she was sure she had down cold moments before the start of her final exam. Next to her, Uhura looked like she was at the end of her tether as she sent a flustered look Leonard's way. Len felt his jaw tighten to the point that an searing ache flared through his head, and he glared at Spock with a clear _do something!_ demand on his face. 

When Spock openly regarded their captain, the question of how the hell they were supposed to proceed clear even in his Vulcan eyes, Jim opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked confused -- Len well remembered the expression from back in their Academy days, when that adorable little befuddled expression would get other cadets to slip him their comm digits, professors to excuse him from assignments, and bartenders to pour him free drinks. "Wait," he asked, clearing his throat. "Um. What?" 

From the dais, around which they were all stood like supplicant satellites, the ornate ancient chair of the Regalian rulers creaked. As he shifted, Chekov looked pale. "Wedding?" he asked weakly.


	2. Chapter 2

"I _said_ we hadn't finished checking out all their fine print," Jim grumbled an hour later back on board, as they continued their frustrating meeting in the senior officers' briefing room. "If Chekov had only waited like thirty seconds --"

"Two point three five standard minutes would have been the time necessary to discover the relevant material, based on the position of the pertinent details in the documents," Spock interrupted in that calmly patronizing way of his. Based on the way he'd drawn himself up, though, he was probably just as twitchy on the inside as the rest of them over this huge snafu. 

"Yeah, okay, if he'd only waited two point three five standard minutes until we figured out the rulers on that planet need to be married pretty much as soon as they take the throne, we might have been able to get him out of this mess," Jim continued fuming.

All of them who had been on Regalis Prime had gathered at the table mere moments after beaming up, grim faces all around as they scrambled to try and figure out what the hell they were going to do. All of them that is, except Chekov, who had stumbled off the transporter pad looking shell-shocked. When Jim had asked him quietly if he wanted a few minutes to himself, Chekov shakily agreed he wanted to be excused to his quarters. He'd slunk away with a guilty look on his face, much like any teenager who knew he was in a world of trouble after doing something really stupid and wanted to escape as quickly as possible. 

"The point is academic," Spock noted. "Ensign Chekov did not in fact wait for us to locate the germane facts, and so we must move forward in dealing with the situation at hand: namely, the need to find a suitable spouse and proceed with a royal wedding that will satisfy the Regalians as soon as possible." 

Jim groaned and let his head fall into his hands at the head of the table. "An easy mission, they said," he muttered. "You'll be in and out of that summit with the signatures after a couple of hours, they said."

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned his attention back to the documents that Uhura was helping him rifle through. Before they had beamed back aboard, Sebastinio had reluctantly lent the team a sheaf of official papers so they might find more details about how all Regalian monarchs had to be married before they could take their place as rulers of the planet. Watching how quickly they worked, Leonard half-expected the two of them to tear clean through the papers in their haste. 

He couldn't say as he blamed them. After all, it was bad enough that the kid was expected to tie the knot, but just before they had left the planet's surface, Sebastinio had dropped yet another bombshell. It turned out that the politicians insisted that the kid had to get hitched in less than a week, before the Regalian parliament re-convened. 

The other attendees in the room waited anxiously, some surreptitiously checking their PADDs or glancing at the chrono on the wall while the delay stretched onward. For a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the shuffling of papers. 

"So what happens if we just take off, get out of Regalian space entirely?" Len finally asked bluntly. 

The others looked up, obviously startled.

"Come on, I bet Scotty could get us out of here at warp six at least. Hell, the kid can even head on back to visit for those damn Regalian festivals and wear that weird crown then if he wants once the dust settles! But as far as I can tell there's nothing to stop us from keeping him away from this shotgun wedding. After all, what's the worst that can happen?"

When Jim frowned and the rest of them exchanged glances, Bones sighed. Apparently he'd missed something.

"It turns out that's what the Minister of Planetary Pride was starting to tell me and Ensign Rusesk while the rest of you were going over the royal investiture papers," said Uhura. "His language was so formal and archaic though, that at first it wasn't really clear what he was getting at. Those Regalians have _way_ too many flowery metaphors in their native tongue." She rubbed two fingers on her forehead as though her head was aching. 

Len didn't doubt she had a killer headache by now. He would have one himself if he hadn't stopped by sickbay for a hypo to take care of the migraine he'd felt coming on ever since hearing the poor kid would be forced to marry.

"Lieutenant Uhura, Ensign Rusesk, can you fill in Bones and bring the rest of us up to date on anything else you've figured out so far?" Jim asked. 

Uhura glanced at Rusesk, the ensign with expertise on the planet's culture who had beamed down with the team to Regalis earlier, and began. "It seems the royalty of Regalis Prime must be married when they enact rulings on Regalis Prime's laws," she explained. "It's only because Chekov just learned of his place in the succession, and the advisors established that he wasn't yet married that the Parliament called an emergency delay before their next session. They wanted to give him a little time to get the wedding part over with." Rusesk nodded along as Uhura explained. 

"Well, how about we tell them Chekov will be the first single prince they've had?" Leonard cut in. "The dawn of a new bachelor ruler era, and all that."

"I'm afraid that is out of the question," Spock said in that somber way of his. "According to the precedents I have found in their historical records, and in light of the specific nuances of their society's _mores_ that Ensign Rusesk has apparently determined through her careful study, an unmarried monarch will signal extreme instability, to the point where chaos will reign."

"They're so set on having their prince married off that if Chekov refuses to go ahead with the wedding, they'll apparently lose all semblance of social control. We're talking riots, mob rule, eventual warfare," Jim said grimly; apparently he'd been briefed on that part of the nonsense earlier. 

"That peaceful little planet?" Len objected. "Why, they don't seem like they could spiral down into social unrest even if you gave them a good hard shove down a steep hill!"

"It's true, Doctor McCoy," insisted Rusesk. She consulted a PADD that presumably held her notes as she spoke. "If you look at their history, over two hundred and fifty years ago they had a Princess who remained unmarried for ten days after taking the throne. Their capital was almost completely overcome by bedlam until she finally wed. And several generations later, the entire infrastructure was threatened with bombings after a single prince gained the crown unexpectedly due to his father's sudden passing. Then just ten years after that, when one princess declared she planned to take her time choosing a husband, a group of rebels rose up to seize --"

"Okay, okay, I get it, you don't need to recite your entire senior thesis," Leonard said, his voice surly. "Those Regalians aren't too keen on their rulers staying unattached. And no doubt all that calamity and mayhem would pose a little problem for their very attractive Topaline reserves the Federation can't wait to get their hands on."

A few of the people at the table glanced at one another uncomfortably. 

"Okay, yeah, so obviously the Federation wants those mining rights to the planet's Topaline reserved and amicably delivered under the standard agreements," Jim began. "But even without that issue, I can't just let some currently peaceful planet devolve into chaos if there's some way to take care of it." He sighed and let his palms slide along the table, and Leonard rolled his eyes and pretended to examine the vent on the side wall while Spock regarded Jim's fingers with barely disguised hunger. "Whether we like it or not, Chekov agreed to this. Now he has to get married pronto, and we can't let him get fobbed off on some stranger. So." He took a deep breath. "I'll do it."

"You'll do _what_?" Bones burst out.

"I'm saying I'll be the one to marry Chekov," Jim said fiercely. 

Uhura almost imperceptibly shook her head, and Spock stiffened where he sat. Len hadn't realized their rigid First Officer could get stiffer than he had been a moment ago, but well, there he went. 

"He's gotten into this mess partly because of us and the Federation's Topaline shortage, after all," Jim went on. "Hell, he wasn't even scheduled for that away mission originally. If he'd stayed on board, none of this genetic relation royal obligation stuff would have ever come up. The least I can do is try and help him out, instead of abandoning him to -- to -- what was that jerk's name?"

"Oh, yes, I have it here somewhere," Rusesk muttered, switching to a second PADD and skimming its contents. 

"What jerk?" Leonard butted in. "Hey, you can't mean they've already got someone in mind! Did they actually say Chekov has to marry a specific person at some point? I thought he just had to tie the knot." 

"Unfortunately they do have someone in mind. His name is Orsini," said Uhura. "Apparently he's from a family with a fairly tenuous right to the throne."

"But before they knew about Chekov, Orsini was the one with the best claim to rule," put in Rusesk excitedly (she'd obviously found her more detailed notes). "He's gained some popular support recently, mostly because Regalis Prime has gone about a year without a new ruler in sight. While they were scouring around trying to find someone to put on the throne there have been some problems -- nothing yet on the order of the riots and mayhem from Regalis Prime's past during the periods associated with unmarried rulers, but indications of trouble all the same." 

"So plenty of Regalians would rather have had Orsini on the throne if the alternative was nobody," Jim noted. 

"Or at least they would have up until a few hours ago when they found out about Chekov," said Uhura.

Spock weighed in looking right at Jim, as if he only had eyes for their captain, though Jim was looking anywhere _but_ at Spock. "It is evident Chekov's claim supersedes that of Orsini's. The Ministers have, I believe, confided to Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Rusesk that Chekov is certain to gain planet-wide support rapidly once the news of his birthright becomes known. But even so we are still faced with the fact that for many Regalians the expectation of late has been that Orsini would soon become their next ruler." He sent an enigmatic look Jim's way before he lowered his eyes to the table. "It is logical for the strength of the succession and the planet's political stability that Chekov consider Orsini as a candidate for a husband. He may prove an adequate spouse for the ensign, and a noble-born native of the planet would assure some help in dealing with anticipated royal protocol. Chekov may find such a match sufficient for his needs."

"Except if I step forward to help out Chekov, he won't have to rely on that Orsini creeper, and Chekov can marry someone he already knows," Jim interrupted. He finally met Spock's gaze, and the two of them glared at each other.

Leonard had to wonder what the hell the other attendees of the meeting thought of the weird tension in the room. Besides him, Jim, Uhura, Spock, and Ensign Rusesk (who probably hadn't figured her expertise on Regalian customs would mean she'd have to deal with the weird vibes between her Captain and First Officer), they were joined at the meeting by some or other lieutenant that Len couldn't for the life of him recall having encountered before they had met up in the Transport room to visit the planet. He was probably a Topaline expert, or the guy acting on the administrative parts of the deal for the Federation, Len thought dismissively. 

Also there for the awkward-fest was one of the security team who had accompanied them dirtside, Hendorff. Leonard probably wouldn't have recognized him as anyone more than another burly earnest red-shirted crewman but for his recently discouraged painfully obvious crush on Christine Chapel. The poor sap had hung around sickbay all too often in hopes of a chance to chat her up, while Christine deftly handed him off to other personnel like Doctor M'Benga. Personally Len had been all too happy to use the man as a pincushion for various vitamin-boosting hypos. He figured that as much as anything else had helped put a sharp point on the message Hendorff didn't have a chance in hell with Len's Head Nurse. 

Of course, if the others in the room didn't pick up on any unspoken strain between their First Officer and Captain, Leonard guessed he could also credit it to the fact that Jim Kirk, a guy known for his wandering eye and love of playing the field, had just volunteered to stick his neck out and marry one of the ship's ensigns.

"I do not recommend that course of action," Spock said flatly.

"Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't be the one to volunteer?" Jim asked Spock in a low voice. 

Lieutenant So-and-so helpfully opened his mouth as though he was about to speak and then winced. Leonard imagined someone's well-aimed kick had tipped him off that the question wasn't meant as a general one. Having had his own experience with that version of a silencer, Len could sympathize; Uhura wore some sharp-toed boots these days. 

There was the faintest tint of green fanning across Spock's cheekbones as he looked away and murmured, "At the present moment, I cannot." The muscles in Jim's jaw tightened. 

Well, even if a couple of the people in the room had no clue about the complicated undercurrents of the conversation Len took heart in the fact that at least Uhura seemed wise to the nuances at work. The way she glanced between the captain and commander with a concerned expression tipped Leonard off that he wasn't the only one who had noticed them dancing around each other so intricately they were practically doing the minuet. 

Still, even in the midst of a charged moment between Jim and Spock -- and never mind the complete foolishness of Jim offering himself up as the sacrificial marital lamb -- Len couldn't help but get stuck on figuring out _which_ Regalian was Orsini. He frowned in thought as Spock said something that was supposedly neutral toned but probably subtly tinged with possessiveness and Jim responded with indignation. 

Had Orsini been the dull looking officious guy who had handed Chekov a beverage when they were waiting to be led into a large chamber, before Chekov's upcoming succession problems came to light? Leonard hadn't like the looks of that sycophantic one, not even a little bit. Or was it the snivelly little toad who had scuttled up to watch with a keen and covetous eye before they all transported back up to the ship? He'd had an unpleasant hungry look about him, Leonard decided; whoever he was, Len was willing to do plenty to keep a guy like that from getting his greedy claws anywhere near poor Chekov. 

"Don't know how I missed half of the stuff that went on down there when I was around the entire time," Leonard grumbled half to himself while Jim and Spock kept up with their thinly-veiled barbed exchanges that had nothing to do with Chekov's situation and everything to do with the two of them. He wracked his brain, trying to remember. Wouldn't you know but it was probably some other Regalian he hadn't even spotted, some milquetoast who had shifty eyes and an oily way of smiling and actually thought he was better than their resident kid genius about to take his planet's throne, the spoiled creep? Fat chance a jerk on that order would get to mess anything up for Chekov if Leonard McCoy had anything to say about it. 

Then his thoughts ground to a halt as his gaze snapped up to glare at the rest of them. "Wait, if they all want to marry Chekov off to this Orsini guy -- how do we know if the kid even likes guys? Maybe we can get him out of this forced wedlock silliness on that alone." Sure, most people in the last few centuries and nowadays were more or less flexible in their preferences; Leonard himself was. But that didn't mean there weren't still a good fifteen or twenty percent of human beings who tended to prefer one gender over the other almost all the time. If Chekov was one of that group, it could be their ticket out of this mess. 

For a moment Spock and Jim looked peevish about the interruption. Then Uhura laughed aloud. 

"Seriously, Doctor, you didn't know that Pavel likes men almost exclusively? Did you miss what happened between him and that merchant ship's first mate when we took the shore leave on Tau Eridani V last month? Or did you completely tune out when that Lieutenant from Engineering was dating Chekov and kept sending him cheap chocolates that he fobbed off on the rest of us until they broke up?"

"Okay, whatever, so Chekov does like guys," Len said, disgruntled that he had no idea about the flings Uhura mentioned. Obviously he didn't care who the kid crushed on or hooked up with. He'd just assumed their navigator was barely past adolescence, to the extent that he probably hadn't yet graduated from plastering posters of boy band or girl group singers on his quarter's walls. "But even if Chekov is on board with marrying this Orsini character--"

"See, I'm pretty sure he's not, though," said Uhura. "Didn't any of you catch when Orsini kept trying to talk to Chekov all afternoon after that luncheon? Chekov couldn't edge away fast enough." 

"Oh yeah?" Strangely this sent a rush of warm feelings through Len's chest. Maybe he was a little proud of the kid for not being such a fool as all that. Or maybe he just hadn't liked the way Orsini was probably all slick and smug, even if Leonard hadn't technically met the man to the point where he could pick him out of a crowd. Yet. 

When no one else seemed inclined to add anything, Len sat back in his chair and got back down to brass tacks. After all, besides presiding over all things medical on the Enterprise, his main duties sure as hell included keeping Jim from throwing himself into the besieged hero role for yet another crazy situation. "Well, even if we know that Chekov isn't interested in this Orsini fella," he said, darting his eyes to everyone around the table, "there's no reason for Jim to stick his neck out and volunteer to tie the knot. Especially when anyone with eyes knows damn well that Jim is --"

"Knows I'm what, Bones?" Jim cut in, already sounding slightly panicked and potentially on his way to being a lot angry. 

Len very nearly raised his hands upward to ask for god to send him some damn patience. _When everyone with half a brain could tell that Jim was head over heels stupidly in love with his Vulcan First Officer_ , he wanted to say. But apparently they were all still tip-toeing around that blatantly obvious fact. 

"That you're not the right man for the job," Len said curtly to defer any more Captain-ly freaking out.

Spock frowned slightly and leaned forward.

Jim looked simultaneously relieved and upset. "Are you saying I'm not marriage material?" His gaze snapped to Spock and away so quickly that Leonard was probably the only one who caught it. Nope, there was Uhura rolling her eyes; she was a sharp one, Len granted. 

"Christ almighty," Len muttered.

"Because I'll have you know I'm a catch -- a catch! -- and it's not like I'm unable to commit to something long-term, because I so am! It's just that I'm waiting for the right one to finally...um, finally..." He pulled up short, biting his bottom lip.

Spock had his lips pressed together and his hands were gripping the table hard. He had his standard inscrutable gaze trained on Jim, but Leonard reckoned most of the people in the room with two brain cells to rub together might just cotton on that this was somehow different from most any other moment when Spock had Jim anywhere in his sights.

"Look, we can't let Chekov marry some stranger," Jim went on quietly. "And part of being the Captain means standing up to take responsibility in situations like this one." Probably without realizing it, he turned to address Spock, a plea for understanding threading through his words. "Besides, I still feel guilty that I'm the one that got him into this mess. Hell, if I hadn't chosen him for the away team --"

This time Len really did raise his eyes to the ceiling. He'd been the one to lean in and say, "Ah, hell, Jim, why don't you let him come along?" when Chekov had watched them eagerly, his wide eyes all, "pick me for your team, Captain!" when Jim was determining the away group. "If anyone's responsible for the kid coming along -- " he started reluctantly, because facts were facts.

"Captain, wait," Uhura said hesitantly. "You might not need to offer to do this. As I understand it, this would be something of a symbolic union. It's not as though the Regalians requires proof of, I don't know --"

"Consummation?" Jim asked, and then cringed when Spock raised an eyebrow. 

"So really, it could be any of us, male or female. I'd like to volunteer," Uhura said, her voice gaining strength as she went on. "Pasha and I are friends, and I'd like to help."

Now Spock turned his frown her way. Though the two of them hadn't been dating for months, Leonard imagined the Commander didn't like seeing his former girlfriend have to weigh herself down with an unwanted marriage, whether it was only supposed to be a symbolic union or not. But of course Jim, with his schoolboy nervousness about the torch he was carrying for Spock ("Do you think they'll just get back together after all?" he'd asked plaintively during more than one night of drinking more of Leonard's whiskey than he deserved), probably took that as some kind of secret Spock and Uhura yearning coming to the surface. 

So while Uhura looked soberly at the table, and Spock looked vaguely distressed as he regarded Uhura, and Jim grimaced as he looked anywhere but at Spock, Len heaved a great big sigh and decided he might as well ante up.

"Shut up, all of you. I'll do it," he said firmly.

Everyone turned to him in evident shock.

"What, I can't be a good friend?" he grumbled. "I can't be the one to help out in an interplanetary crisis by getting hitched to a curly-haired teenager who's being thrust into ruling a heap of aliens he's never met before in his life?"

"Bones, you definitely don't have to," Jim began.

"Indeed, Doctor, given your irascibility and temper, it seems to me that you are perhaps one of the least desirable choices for a royal spouse," Spock cut in. "One would hope instead for a certain amount of restraint, tact, and diplomacy. Your past behavior would not indicate a propensity to display such a set of traits, and thus makes you likely unsuitable for the position." 

"Oh, and I suppose you'd be the better man?" Bones shot back. He regretted it as soon as he saw Jim's lips part slightly in surprise and those puppy dog eyes widen as they flickered over to the Vulcan. 

"Negative," Spock said coolly. "Though I would have no objection to a future spouse of the male gender, there are particular issues related to my status as a Vulcan that make me an inapt candidate for this marriage."

"Can't lower yourself to marrying a full-on human, huh?" Len grumbled. "Not even when he comes already complete with an ancient throne and royal coffers?" He repented saying it as soon as he saw the wounded look in Jim's eyes.

"Your statement is both inaccurate and insensitive," said Spock. The slight twitch of his nose might as well have indicated high dudgeon for any normal folks. "The ideal contender in this case would be entirely unattached and prepared to embark upon such a committed relationship. Though I cannot claim to have an overt understanding with a particular individual, still it remains that my affections are in no small part otherwise engaged, something that would stand in the way of my forming a marital bond with another. Thus, I am technically unavailable for this precise situation." 

"Did Spock just straight out say that he _like_ likes someone?" Lieutenant So-and-so murmured to Ensign Rusesk. Rusesk ignored him, turning back to her notes on her PADD. 

Spock sat ramrod straight even though he'd obviously heard the whisper with his stupid keen pointy ears. Uhura gave Spock a sideways look of exasperation. And of course Jim's expression went wide-eyed and hopeful before he appeared disappointed -- Len could practically map out his train of thought to where he assumed it couldn't possibly be _him_ Spock had gotten attached to.

"The point is, I'm unattached," Leonard pointed out, speaking slowly so that everyone would catch the gist. The attention in the room swung back his way. "I have been since Jocelyn filed those papers a while back. And unlike some of you," he pointedly did not look at Spock or Jim, "I don't even have anyone possibly waiting in the wings. So, technically I _am_ prepared 'to embark upon such a committed relationship'. I think we can all agree it should be one of us," he argued when Jim still looked conflicted. "That Orsini sounds like a slimeball. No way are we leaving Chekov to his tender mercies." 

Spock parted his lips as if to form an objection, so Leonard pointed a finger at him and cut him off at the pass. "I don't care what you think of my temper or how suitable you reckon I am. Even if I'm not some mincing diplomat, I can look out for the kid, make sure none of those Regalians try to strong-arm him into promising he'll do something else crazy next time around he goes all helpful on everybody. And I can guarantee you I'll have his interests at heart. I don't care even a little bit whether the Federation comes out ahead on this one, and I couldn't give a damn about what the Regalians want if I tried."

For a moment they were all silent.

"It's not the worst idea in the universe," Jim said thoughtfully.

"Gee, Captain, thanks a lot," Len complained. 

"I too find the proposal is not without logic," Spock allowed.

Leonard huffed. "Well, I'm sure glad to have your vote of approval, Commander." 

Jim stared at him for a second before he nodded once. "Okay. If you're seriously sure --"

"Doctor McCoy, I just wonder," Uhura began.

Len scowled at her. He already had strange fluttery feelings in his gut now that it looked like Jim and Spock were on board with him volunteering. He didn't want to draw this out too long just in case he was tempted to change his mind. Already he could sense a thousand and one objections marshalling forces in the back of his mind about why offering to marry Chekov was a horrible idea. "Yeah, go ahead, Lieutenant; tell me why you object to me and my appropriateness. Just make it quick."

"It's not that I think you're the wrong person for the position," she said delicately. "Only, while it's very kind of you to step forward, I'm just not sure that Pasha would want you to volunteer under duress like this."

The door behind Leonard slid open. But when he saw at a glance over his shoulder that it was one of Jim's never-ending parade of pretty Yeomen (this one a wisp of a young man with a way too complicated gelled hairstyle), he turned back to face the room with a scowl. The Yeoman sailed by silently, a PADD in his hands as he approached Jim. 

"Well, that's too damn bad, because I'm the man for the job," Len snapped at her and at anyone else thinking of coming up with a stupid reason why he shouldn't be the one. "None of the rest of you should have to do it, and that's final. I'll step up and marry Chekov if only to keep him from having to marry that jerk Orsini. Because god knows the kid would do just about anything anyone asks of him, especially if they're plunking a metal circle on his head."

"Bones," Jim coughed. 

"I don't want to hear it! He needs someone to look out for him so he doesn't get himself into any more trouble, and you know it, Jim," Len continued. "Sure, he's a genius with equations and navigation stuff, but he's got no more common sense than a box of hair. Plus he's just too damn nice. The kid would sign away his life's blood if he thought he was helping someone."

"Bones," Jim said more urgently, his eyes flickering to the wall behind Leonard.

Len snapped, "What the hell do you want, Jim?" When he happened to catch Uhura's eye, he saw she looked completely appalled. Funny thing, but she was staring at the wall behind Leonard, too. Even the wispy Yeoman seemed uncomfortable, shifting where he stood. 

"Doctor McCoy, if you would turn around," Spock advised quietly. 

That was when Len finally realized that while he'd been railing about the situation, Pavel Chekov had sneaked inside right on Jim's Yeoman's heels.

"Thank you for wolunteering," Chekov said stiffly. He stood at a Spock-like stiff version of parade rest, his shoulders strained as he clasped his hands tightly behind his back. "Though I do not wish to press you into an onerous duty, and I am sorry to learn of your lack of esteem for me, given the quickly approaching time limit for me to deliver my decision to the Regalians I find I must accept your kind offer."

He turned on his heel and stalked out.

"Pasha, wait," Uhura called after him, gathering her things before following at a jog. 

"Well, that's that," Jim said dubiously. "Bones, we'll work out all the details later." He glanced around to everyone still sitting at the table. "Dismissed."

Leonard frowned at his hands, gripped together so tightly on the table that his knuckles were starting to turn white. 

Around him, the other meeting attendees quickly filed out until only Jim and Spock remained seated at the table with him.

"Don't you say one word," he growled when he glanced up to find Jim had just opened his mouth. 

Jim's jaw tightened, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement and got to his feet to depart without speaking. When he left, Spock followed without so much as a nod for Len.

Alone in the room, Leonard slumped in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. Figured he'd finally get the last word in one of those rare moments when there was absolutely no pleasure to be had from it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding plans get kicked into high gear. And what's this about an engagement party?

"Teal blue, or sea green?" Sulu persisted, holding up little silk patches of samples.

"Hell if I know," Leonard grumbled. "Now leave me in peace to finish up this round of inoculations, would you?"

After the disaster of a meeting in which Len had offered to marry Chekov and Chekov had oh-so-resentfully accepted, Jim had alerted the crew to the extended stay at Regalis Prime for the wedding. After some quick conferrals with Chekov and the Regalian Ministers, Jim decided they could issue invitations to any crew members who wished to attend the ceremony and reception. The response had been swift and enthusiastic: of the 250 crewmembers eligible for off-duty time during the unanticipated shore leave, over 170 had accepted right away. 

At the next Alpha shift bridge staff meeting -- in which Jim announced the approval and asked Uhura about protocols for the ceremony and reception to put in the memo for the attendees -- Len had grumbled about the lot of them probably only wanting free food and entertainment. 

But Uhura had shaken her head at him, her ponytail swinging back and forth to communicate her disapproval of him running his mouth all the more emphatically. "Of course they all want to come, Doctor! Everyone really likes Pasha."

"What's with the Pasha thing, anyway?" he asked, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to say maybe it was his own damn popularity that was bringing on the crowds. "I thought his name was Pavel." Since Chekov wasn't in attendance, having been corralled into yet another confab with the Regalians about the upcoming wedding, Len figured he might as well clear up the name business. He might as well know what the hell to call the man, seeing as how they were getting hitched in barely a week. 

Jim, having finished the meeting's business, had already dismissed them all. Now he bent his head to confer with Spock, who was of course sitting way closer to Jim than anyone ever needed to. He didn't seem to hear Len, but those two were more and more in their own bubble these days. 

"It's an affectionate diminutive of his name in Russian," Uhura answered loftily as she rose from the table. Alongside her, Sulu nodded along gravely like everyone else totally already got that automatically. "It's what his close friends would call him."

"Yet I'm still calling him Chekov, when I'm the one who's going to be putting the ring on his finger in four more days."

"And whose fault is that?" she asked. Her boots clacked as she turned around to depart for the bridge. Weird, but she actually seemed mad at him. Leonard shook his head as Sulu hurried after her. 

And now Len and his medical team had to inoculate every single one of those attending 170 crewmembers in advance of the lot of them headed down to the planet for the wedding fiasco. For _his_ wedding fiasco. 

Not for the first time that day, he wondered when he might be able to fit in another migraine hydro. Or, you know, actually comm his kid if he ever managed some off duty hours that coincided with her being home from elementary school. He'd yet to let Joanna know she was about to get a sort-of step-dad who was barely over a decade older than she was. He really didn't want to hear Jocelyn screech about it when she heard her ex was getting re-married, or worse yet, laugh her damn head off about how Len had stepped forward. "Only you, Leonard," he could almost hear her say. 

Though at least Joanna was due for a several-weeks long visit to her grandparents on Marina II in a few days' time, he remembered. He could wait a little while longer to pass on the news, get in touch with her while she was visiting. That way, Len give her the basic details about the marriage in as calm and factual a way as possible while she was staying with his folks, and without his former wife adding more drama than the situation already contained. 

"But I need to let the Regalians know about the color choice by 1300 Standard hours," Sulu argued, shoving the samples in front of Len's face. "I promised Sebastinio I'd take care of it, and Yeoman Rand is waiting in the Transporter Room to take my answer down to him personally." 

"Well, as you can see, I'm doing actual work here. So take your color-coordination questions out of my sickbay and over to Chekov," Len declared, trying to side-step Sulu.

"I can't," Sulu said now, shaking his samples to block Len when he tried to dodge him. Just Len's luck that Sulu was so good at evasion tactics, never mind all those hand-to-hand maneuvers he'd mastered. In fact, right now Sulu looked about ready to sweep him to the floor and pin him down until he picked the exact right shade for the stupid tablecloths. "Pasha's on planet dealing with the history of their laws and learning customs and working out when exactly he's returning to Regalis Prime for the Ripening Festival in six more months. He doesn't have time to work on the wedding planning! Besides, the Captain promised you'd help."

"Why are you doing all this, anyway?" Len grumbled. "Don't the Regalians have throngs of frou-frou-decorating-minded subjects who are just dying to put on a fancy party for their new prince?"

"Because Pavel asked me to help out," Sulu answered indignantly. "And I figure some of us ought to make sure he can enjoy this stupid wedding. Because even if he has to marry you, it's the only wedding he'll ever get to have."

"What was that?" Len asked, his voice low. He decided to ignore the whole "even if he has to marry you" business -- he knew he was no prize, already divorced, only a paltry amount of credits to his name now that he'd taken care of most of his outstanding debt, and with a kid dirtside complicating things -- and focus on the weird finality of what Sulu had just said. 

"The Regalians don't believe in divorce," Sulu said, sounding defeated. "It's not exactly illegal, but it's really rare. So as their monarch he's supposed to follow along with their customs. I mean, this is kind of it for Pavel. So I just thought, even if I'm no good at this kind of stuff, I could try to make the wedding and ceremony as nice as possible for him since there's no way he can get out of doing it."

Len scowled. He didn't like to be reminded of how trapped Chekov was; it made it harder begrudge his own status in this mess.

"Fine. Sea green," he gritted out, feeling like the whole world had gone nuts if he was the one weighing in on the best ornamenting options for a wedding reception. The first time around Jocelyn and her mother had taken care of every last detail; they hadn't even asked his opinion on anything. He'd only had to get fitted for his monkey suit and show up on time. 

"Fine," Sulu huffed back at him. 

"Anyway, I thought that those Regalians believed marriage didn't require --" Len stopped, and when Sulu didn't look like he got it, waved a hand vaguely.

"What?" Sulu asked blankly. At least now he'd stopped shaking those damn samples. 

"Fidelity," Len finished reluctantly. He'd understood as much from the cultural sensitivity documents Uhura had uploaded to his PADD as soon as everyone was on board with Leonard stepping up as the sacrificial ram. 

Not that it hadn't hurt like hell to read (alone in his quarters with nothing but a tumbler of bourbon and soda for company) that Regalians didn't practice strict monogamy as a rule. Apparently, especially in the upper classes (which Chekov was officially a member of as their prince), it was considered gauche to expect that sort of thing, and completely understandable or even anticipated that partners would have affairs on occasion. Just thinking about it had woken him up an hour after he finally fell asleep and kept him up half the night, wondering how exactly that kind of arrangement was supposed to work. 

Sure, he and Chekov didn't have any kind of romantic relationship to start with. Realistically he didn't want to demand faithfulness as a condition to this sham of a marriage, especially when the two of them were so different in so many ways. Hell, they barely knew one another; he couldn't expect Chekov to stay true to him in this sort of situation. But just thinking about the kind of hidden relationships the kid would have to have if he met someone he liked, well. It all brought back thoughts of how Jocelyn had stepped out on him. 

It had been hell, the way he'd discovered her in bed with another man. Then there had been the late night fights and sleeping on the couch, the pitying looks he got from their friends and neighbors while the drama surrounding the divorce was unfolding. Just days ago, he would have said good on Chekov for hooking up with someone when they had shore leave or teased him if he was dating someone on ship. But now, with Chekov technically about to become his husband, it gave Len a sour feeling in his gut to think about Chekov sneaking around with someone else, whoever it was. 

Not that he'd really have to sneak. They'd obviously be adults about it (never mind that Chekov barely qualified as one; Leonard was doing his level best to forget that part). But when Len imagined it, he could feel the ache in his chest already, about what a failure he was at marriage and keeping other people happy. Lately his own romantic involvements were pretty much limited to encounters he lined up during brief stays at space stations and other planets, and the occasional R&R back on Earth. He made sure to keep things casual, made certain whoever he got together with understood it couldn't amount to anything serious. He figured he was doing them all a favor, whether it was a pretty little Andorian woman from the USS Exeter he'd met up with twice, or that hilariously sarcastic Berkelian he'd spent a memorable week with back on Andrir Senti, a stupidly handsome guy who for some reason had been all over Len and a real wildcat in the sack to boot. Sure, he knew how to show a partner a good time. But no one deserved to be saddled with a long-term relationship with him; better for everyone that Len knew that already.

But Chekov was just a kid, and probably had never had his heart broken. Hell, he probably still looked forward to finding his one true love or whatever. Obviously Leonard knew better than anyone that such a thing didn't exist in the real world, never mind those dumb little romantic hopes and dreams that still tried to worm their way into his own husk of a heart on occasion. But he didn't want to have to be the jerk to break that to Chekov. 

Plus, Chekov was a good looking guy. Not that Len spent a lot of time noticing details like that about his shipmates generally; he was too busy to get wrapped up in that kind of thing most of the time. But he'd seen a couple of the younger crewmembers giggling or smiling encouragingly when Chekov was nearby, obviously hoping he'd look their way. Clearly he could see how popular the kid was at social gatherings and on shore leaves. He'd already been an attractive kid when they'd all first gotten aboard the Enterprise, and it seemed like he just got more and more handsome as the days went by. Hell, if Len had been half as pretty as Chekov at his age, he'd probably have dated around much more (and maybe not gotten tangled up with Jocelyn at all, since he might have had a chance to try out more things with people who weren't, you know, crazy in the head). 

Let's face it, Len thought grimly -- the kid had stunning eyes, a smile that could light up the room, and a way about him that made you want to punch the lights out of anyone who dared think they could give him any guff. He was young and promising and charming and altogether way too good for the likes of Leonard Horatio McCoy.

So who was Len to stand in his way if Chekov met someone, just because of some meaningless ceremony and some fool tradition of monarchy on a planet they would only have to visit every twice a year? 

Sulu frowned at him, his whole face and posture radiating so strong a disapproval that it brought Len's attention back to their irritating little chat. "Okay, so I grant you the Regalians don't expect monogamy. But that's not really who Chekov is. For a young guy, he's pretty serious and loyal, and he'd sooner hurt himself than let someone else down. I guess you don't know him well enough to understand that, though. I keep forgetting how much --" He glanced at the wrinkled samples in his hand that he'd begun to crumple at some point during their conversation, a worried look on his expressive face. 

Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "Say, Sulu, this isn't your way of trying to tell me that you and Chekov --" 

"What? No. No!" Sulu actually looked horrified, which Len frankly thought was a bit much, especially considering how appealing Chekov was. "He's like a brother or something," Sulu explained quickly. 

Len rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb, digesting this. "Because the two of you are awfully close, and if there was anything between you, I'll tell you right now that I'd stand aside in a heartbeat."

Sulu actually rolled his eyes. "Trust me, that's definitely not what Chekov wants. Not that he'd tell _you_ that or anything. Which is why I'm trying to explain the kind of person he is, so you don't go and trample all over his feelings." 

Len threw his hands up in the air. Far be it for him to understand why Chekov would rather get married to someone he barely knew instead of the guy who was his bestest buddy. And Christ, if everyone was so worried about Leonard mucking up the kid's heart, he was going to have to pull Chekov aside and tell him that Len had absolutely no expectations about this, just to assure him it was okay if Chekov got a big crush on someone down in Sciences or had his first puppy love with an beguiling alien on one of the next planets they were due to visit. "I'm just saying, if his subjects don't expect faithfulness, then it's no big deal in the end, right? Even after we've got those rings on our fingers, he can go do whatever he likes, and I can, you know, whatever. And no one can say boo to either of us about it --"

If there was a kind of higher awareness pervading the universe and influencing all of their lives, it sure as hell hated Leonard McCoy. Because just then Len saw a flash of gold shirt as -- damn it all -- Pavel Chekov stopped dead in the entrance to the sickbay. He gave Leonard a shocked look before he turned to leave as quickly as he'd come. 

"Kid moves around like a cat," Len grumbled as Sulu bolted after Chekov, shouting, "Pasha, hang on!"

"Fantastic," Leonard muttered to himself. Of course after he sighed and scrubbed his hands over his tired eyes and aching face, Nurse Chapel was there to give him the mother of all dirty looks when he looked up. His jaw tightened as he turned away to see to his next patient. 

"How many times have you actually talked to Chekov since all of this was decided?" she demanded later when she cornered him in his office.

"Try zero," Len snapped. He kept his eyes on the screen as he updated the medical files he'd been letting pile up for months. He'd needed something to make his brain go blank instead of playing over and over in his head the stricken look on Chekov's face when he'd bolted out of Medical. And zero was about right. Chekov was always on Regalis Prime the past few days, just like Sulu had said, working out this cultural issue or learning that social situation in advance of his agreed-upon occasional royal duties and the upcoming wedding. After that one afternoon watching Chekov sit uneasily on the throne before he'd volunteered to marry the kid like an idiot, Len hadn't seen the ensign for more than five minutes at a time. 

"Well, Doctor McCoy, you better find some time and have a serious talk with him!" She narrowed her eyes as she leaned in, her palms flat on his desk. He huffed indignantly at her to disguise how much he wanted to cower back in response to her fit of pique. Just his luck to have a Chief Nurse who pretended to be sweet as pie but in fact had a fiery temper. Sure, she made some of the crewmembers soup to comfort them or visited them in their quarters while they were recovering, and lent them a sympathetic ear when they needed to tell someone their troubles. But she had given Len more than one nightmare about the lingering disapproving looks she shot him when he was too harsh with various foolhardy patients. 

"You can't talk about really private matters out in the open and just let him overhear you," she went on. "At least try not to blab about that kind of thing until you settle some matters between the two of you first. It's disrespectful and cruel! If you keep bumbling around like a gigantic oaf the way you have been, you'll break his poor little heart!"

"How come no one cares about my poor little heart?" Len hollered after her when she stormed out. Once he was alone, he glowered at the screen in front of him and tried to ignore the way his stupid chest ached. 

*****

"Aren't you ready, Doctor?" Scotty asked, looking astonished as he regarded Leonard relaxing in his office the next evening, his especially reserved bottle of fine whiskey within easy reach, a tumbler with ice cradled in his hand.

"Ready for what?" Len scowled. This was the first moment he'd had in days to breathe, never mind put his feet up, and he was damn well going to enjoy it. 

"The state dinner on Regalis Prime to celebrate your engagement!" When Leonard looked at him blankly, Scotty built up a head of steam and shouted, "The one with that condescending cadre of dignitaries and the pompous Federation representatives who came here special just for the event! I'm to make sure you transport down on time. And that won't do at all," Scotty went on, smacking Len's shoulders as soon as he had manhandled him out of his comfy chair and tugged at his blue science officer shirt without so much as a by-your leave. "Dress uniforms, I know that's what Lieutenant Uhura said."

"Now wait just a minute -- hey!" Len exclaimed as Scotty unceremoniously grabbed the glass from his hand, sloshing some of the brandy out as he yanked. 

"Right, well, we haven't the time to discuss your whinging and complaining. So come along right this minute so you can show how likable you are as you chat up those stiff shirts and look distinguished, and --" Scotty paused, giving Len a dubious look. "On second thought…" He shoved the glass back at Len and gestured for him to drink up quickly. "You'll surely be needing that first." 

"No one told me anything about any state dinner," Len protested a moment later as Scotty shoved him to the turbolift on the way to his quarters. 

"Begging your pardon, but that's hardly my fault," Scotty snapped, looking harried. "I'm only to see to it --"

"That I transport on time, I gotcha," Len said with a roll of his eyes, submitting to Scotty hustling him and shoving him all the way down the corridor.

Ten minutes later, and Len was batting Scotty's hands away as he hopped up on the transporter. "How come I'm the only one headed down? No one else has to suffer through this awful shindig?" he asked with a scowl.

"Everyone else is already down there, aren't they?!" Scotty said frantically as he set up the switches and dials at the console. "You're already very nearly late, Sebastinio is going to be all huffy with the Captain, and you can be sure that Sulu and Uhura won't like that you came at the absolute last minute. And if your tardiness messes anything else up on such an important night, no doubt Commander Spock will have my guts for garters. So I don't want any more of your lip!"

"Great, just great," Len muttered the flare of lights of the beam-down began. "Should be a really fun night all around."

*****

"I was beginning to worry you would not come," Chekov said hesitantly when he met Len at the beam-down point. He was the only one there, and judging by the way he'd been pacing as Len materialized, he really had thought Len was going to leave him all alone on purpose to face the simpering hordes. 

"Considering I just found out about it ten minutes ago," Len began.

"You did not get the many messages I left for you?" Chekov asked anxiously. 

"I may have…turned off my comm after finishing the last of the inoculation rounds this afternoon," Len allowed with a scowl. He'd been dead on his feet from dealing with all the details, never mind fielding all the curious chatter from nosy lieutenants and yeomen and ensigns who wanted to know how long he and Chekov had been together, you know, _that way_. 

He'd deflected all their baloney questions, of course -- Jim had emphasized how much he wanted to keep things hush-hush that anyone had had to volunteer to marry Chekov. Poor kid had enough problems without getting harangued by pitying well-wishers who made him feel even more self-conscious about all of this nonsense. But it had been tiring all the same, trying to ignore the unease that prickled his skin at lying about being in some kind of relationship with Chekov, even if it was lying by silence or omission. A nice kid like Chekov deserved better than that, deserved a man who treated him like a prince -- whether he was or wasn't one according to Regalis Prime's crazy genealogical charts -- of that much Leonard was damn sure. 

"Vell. I understand this has not the same importance for you as it might for Regalians or for me, but I would hope that --"

Len groaned, cutting off whatever the kid had been about to say next. It wasn't enough that Jim kept shooting him worried looks, and Uhura seemed impatient with him lately whenever he dealt with her, and Chapel and Sulu were starting to yell at him in concert the last two days, _and_ he saw the patterns of the ribbons that were supposed to go on the boutonnières on the back of his eyelids whenever he was able to grab a few winks of sleep. But now Chekov was going to start scolding him for being a bad fiancé and upsetting the in-laws?

"I'm sorry," Len said through gritted teeth. "It won't happen again."

Chekov regarded him rigidly for a moment before he sagged where he stood. "It is not your fault. I do not mean to force you into any of this. There is perhaps still time, if you wish to remove yourself from the proceedings." Even as he added the last bit, he looked strangely upset before he covered it up with a more neutral expression. And hell, though Len had barely been on the planet for ten minutes altogether since he'd gotten himself abruptly engaged, he knew for damn sure he wasn't going to abandon Chekov to marry some pompous Regalian none of them knew from Adam. No wonder Chekov was all kinds of nervous, thinking he might have to get hitched to that Orsini after all if Leonard skedaddled like a coward. 

"Hey, now, none of that," Len said gruffly. "You don't have to worry whether or not I'm on board. Glad to help, and all that."

"Yes, well. Thank you," Chekov said softly. He cleared his throat and gestured. "We should go this way, if you please."

Len trudged after him, only now noticing the finely brocaded burgundy jacket Chekov had on over the silky looking grey tunic and trousers that were apparently what passed for formal wear down on Regalis. "You look really nice," he said abruptly as they together came to a halt just before the threshold of what looked to be a large ballroom.

Chekov started and gave him a shy smile. "You look wery nice yourself," he said, his gaze drifting down to the shiny boots that completed Len's dress uniform and back up. "Wery handsome," he added. And then of all things, he blushed like a Georgia debutante. 

"Oh, well. Thanks." Len rubbed at the back of his neck and pretended it was just damn hot in the room, not that there was a flush rising to his cheeks as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Regalians sure know how to throw a good engagement party. Alcohol flows freely, Leonard and Pavel show their hosts a Terran tradition, and our engaged couple finds themselves closer than expected.

After Leonard and Chekov were announced to the ballroom full of guests and walked down a long ceremonial carpet -- and damn if he wasn't going to have to get used to that, at least twice a year for those festivals that Uhura assured him he was expected to attend as the royal spouse -- they were ushered to the head table. 

On one side, right next to where Len and Chekov were supposed to go at the center sat Jim and Spock. To their right were Ensign Rusesk and Federation Representative Sanders, taking the remaining seats at the far end. To the left on the other side of Leonard and Chekov were stationed Sebastinio and Orsini, both of their sets of purple eyes wide and unblinking as they gazed at the rambunctious crowd reveling at the round tables. The last two seats at the left end were taken up by Federation Representative Duka and some high-ranking female Regalian, probably one of those members of the Regalian Parliament that Len couldn't keep straight.

Both Representatives Sanders and Duka looked far too eager to attend this charade for Len's liking. Sanders alternated casting a proprietary eye over the sumptuous hall they were in and lecturing an irritated looking Ensign Rusesk with a haughty look on her face. Len didn't blame the Ensign's impatient eye rolling one bit; she was supposed to be their resident expert on Regalis Prime and the planet's culture, and he doubted Sanders had one new thing to tell her no matter how puffed up she was about her alleged knowledge. 

As for Representative Duka, he was obviously pressing the Regalian to his left for gossip like an interfering fishwife, while the Regalian regarded him with very thinly concealed polite distaste. If Leonard didn't have his own problems for the night, he might have interrupted them to rescue the beleaguered Regalian; there was no love lost between him and the pushy Federation desk jockeys who made it their business to haggle for planetary resources. But he supposed sourly that someone from the Federation had to keep their greedy eyes peeled for the Topaline mines they were after amid all of this wedding planning commotion. 

Besides, Len didn't have time to spare to wonder what the Federation representatives were up to. He had enough to do already, keeping a vigilant lookout for Orsini. 

Based on the aliens he'd met when the Enterprise's crew had arrived on Regalis Prime, Leonard had thought the Regalians were an innocuous appearing alien race, with their sort of spindly long fingers and deep purple eyes and general obsequiousness. But it turned out he shouldn't have judged their looks solely on a few Parliamentarians and that toady Sebastinio. Because Orsini was nothing if not a good looking guy. He actually looked a bit muscular, contrasted with the lithe Regalians Leonard had encountered so far, and he bore himself with an easy arrogance that Leonard knew some idiots found sexy and appealing. 

For all that the man was a Regalian, Leonard figured Orsini might as well be a poster boy for those rich and entitled assholes who attended med school with him and thought they didn't have to do a lick of work to get a good internship, or those slick cadets at the Academy who had attempted to flatter and smirk their way through the Starfleet training. Lucky for Len he'd found that his own native talent and hard-working attitude drilled into him by his father served him to leave jerks like that in the dust. Well, Orsini would be no different. Leonard gave him a pointed look and stretched his arm across the back of Chekov's chair.

Unfortunately it took way too long for Orsini to cotton on to the fact that Leonard was giving him the stink eye. Though the rival claimant to the throne had been seated next to Sebastinio, putting one occupied chair's distance between himself and Chekov, he obviously wasn't letting the separation stop him from regarding Chekov with keen interest. And Leonard couldn't figure out which was worse, that Orsini might be bent out of shape about losing the throne and resentful of Chekov's sudden appearance, or that Orsini could be peeved that he'd been blocked from marrying Chekov, and wishing himself in Leonard's shoes. Either way, it made Orsini a potentially dangerous adversary.

When Orsini noticed Len glaring at him, he tilted his head to the side before giving him what most Regalians -- hell, most beings from anywhere -- would think of as a charming smile. But he didn't fool Len one bit. When Leonard refused to smile back, Orsini gave a small shrug and looked amused about something as he turned his attention to the room of party goers.

After a beat, Len followed his rival's ( _Chekov's_ rival's) example and gazed around himself. At a round table a stone's throw away, Sulu and Uhura were next to one another, both speaking respectfully to the eager-seeming Regalians seated with them. There were a few other Enterprise crew members scattered here and there, folks that had some connection to the original mission that had brought them to Regalis Prime, or those whose particular skills and talents might be needed in this ridiculous wedding situation they'd all become mired in. And at the back corner of the room, Len spotted Cupcake and his second-in-command Lieutenant Ahmed, discreetly eyeing the crowd and periodically walking around surreptitiously to check the entry points to the room. 

There would be a few other Starfleet security personnel stationed here and there, Leonard knew from the briefings he'd seen about visits to the planet throughout their stay in orbit. Though Sebastinio had been aghast that the Enterprise crew had wanted their own security at any of the meetings with Regalians, Jim had quietly insisted. He had smiled charmingly with that edge of menace Leonard loved about him and evenly explained that it would make them all feel better about Chekov's welfare and the Federation's future alliance with Regalis Prime if they could keep their security personnel in place while the various details were hammered out. 

"Those Regalians aren't always going to like our interfering, no matter how cute you look when you ask for stuff," Len had scowled when Jim got that smug look on his face after that successful negotiation. Sure enough, Sebastinio hadn't seemed at all pleased as he left the meeting room after the security issues talk, wringing those long fingers of his to show his discontent. 

"Wait, Bones, you think I look cute?" Jim had shot back with a huge grin. "Spock, Bones thinks I'm adorable," he'd confided to his unamused First Officer who had by now risen from the table and hovered close by Jim's side.

Len had huffed and stalked off instead of giving Jim a piece of his mind about those stupid fluttering eyelashes of his. He didn't have the energy to spare for Jim's nonsense, and he definitely didn't much care for the possessive glare Spock had sent his way over Jim's ridiculous display.

At least tonight Spock looked as blank as ever, probably internally serene and gloating at the fact that Jim was planted right next to him during the festivities.

"At least that's over," Leonard muttered to Chekov as they were finally allowed to take their seats after a thunderous clapping that lasted more than five minutes. Len had actually begun to time it on his communicator when he saw Ensign Rusesk wince and shake out her hands after trying to keep up with the applause.

Of course, those awkward five plus minutes weren't half as bad as the event itself, which stretched on and on and _on_. There were three separate children's choirs that lisped out planetary anthems about peace, harmony, and the joys of being part of a monarchy; a ridiculously complicated and lengthy procession of Parliamentary members led around the room _twice_ by the Minister of Planetary Pride; and too many impassioned speeches to count. All of it seemed calculated to show how damn excited everyone was that their recently discovered monarch was about to get hitched. 

At least the alcohol was flowing freely. After trying a few too-sweet concoctions that had made Len sputter and Sebastinio to go faintly blue in the face in evident horror at Leonard's lack of manners, a back-and-forth with the guy who seemed to be Chekov's personal servant had resulted in the Regalians digging around in their stores to find some other kind of alcohol for Len. While nowhere near as good as genuine bourbon or whiskey, it was actually not half bad by the eighth or ninth sip. 

Len tried to savor it, particularly as he had no idea what the comparable proof would be, short of actually leaning over Jim and poking Spock to see if he had a tricorder stashed on him to test it. But he didn't feel like causing a fuss. Besides, it really was damn hot in the room, the way everyone was crowded in to join in the festivities. It didn't help any that Chekov's smiles grew more and more assured as the night went on, his long lashes brushing his cheeks when he averted his gaze after laughing at something Len had muttered. 

So Leonard probably had a few more drinks of whatever it was than he should have, all told, by the time Orsini had risen to his feet, recited a patronizing toast Len paid absolutely no attention to, and then started the crowd off in chanting an entreaty for the royal couple to kiss. 

"Kiss, kiss," the crowd echoed enthusiastically. 

"What the hell is this? They want us to make out here in front of everyone?" Len hissed to Jim. 

"I...might have told them it was a tradition for Terran wedding ceremonies, to get the just-married couple to kiss at the reception," Jim said genially, not looking nearly as abashed as he should have. Leonard supposed it was because Jim was on his third or fourth too-sweet concoction, which he'd taken enthusiastically from the servers even as Spock gazed on with a mildly disapproving air -- in other words, judgmental of Jim's overindulgent imbibing as all get out. 

"They loved the idea!" Jim went on. "Merging Regalian and Terran traditions and all that --" Jim waved his hand around vaguely and gave Leonard a beatific smile. 

"Well, this isn't the actual wedding reception, so it shouldn't have to count," Leonard protested as the demand for kissing continued. He could feel a panic rise up in his gut as more and more occupants of the large ballroom picked up the call. 

Next to him, Chekov was trying to get his attention, but Len was completely distracted when Orsini exclaimed loudly, "Do you not wish to kiss your intended husband at this, our most glorious celebration of your upcoming marriage? Will you not allow all the Regalians to take part in observing the happiness surrounding your forthcoming union in this way, honorable Federation Doctor Leonard McCoy?" 

At Orsini's words, there were some chuckles and a little burst of raucous cheering. "Kiss, kiss," a few continued to repeat with vigor while others raised their glasses in approving toasts. It left no doubt that the Regalians were pretty keen on seeing the custom Jim had blathered about to them in live action. 

"Probably just, like, one little kiss," Jim murmured, making what were obviously meant to be encouraging smoochy sounds, but to Len's ears sounded like raunchy smacking. "Come on, Bones, just pucker up and go!"

"Damn if I'm going to humor that Regalian twit," Len had hissed back. "He probably just wants to make Chekov uncomfortable." And sure, he could _ask_ Chekov what he thought of the situation himself, especially since Chekov was currently tugging at Len's sleeve urgently. But it was the principle of the thing, refusing to do what that entitled numbskull Orsini demanded. 

"Doctor," Spock interrupted, his voice smooth and low (and doing things to Jim's insides, if the way Jim shivered and leaned toward his Vulcan First Officer was any indication). "As it is crucial to convince Orsini and the other Regalians that your relationship with Chekov is a genuine one rather than a marriage of convenience -- for indeed, they have been questioning its veracity since we announced that Chekov in fact had someone in mind for his spouse and so would not be marrying Orsini -- it would be best to humor the Regalians and perform a Terran mouth to mouth brush of your lips."

"And doesn't he make _that_ sound appealing?" Leonard grumbled, though from Jim's dazedly flirty gaze at Spock, apparently it did sound appealing to some of them. 

"All right, all right," he said, turning back to Chekov and giving him what he meant to be a reassuring smile. Chekov's conflicted look in return told Len his attempt had probably come off more like a grimace, though.

"We need not oblige them," Chekov said under his breath as he leaned in to Len, and damn, how the hell did the kid manage to smell that good? He had to really get in close to say the words in Len's ear, now that more of the Regalians had joined in with their encouraging chant. The feel of the warm air so near Leonard's skin made Len bite his cheek to keep from doing a smitten-looking little shiver all his own.

It was probably all the unidentified alcohol he'd had, not to mention the shot of bourbon he'd swallowed quickly on ship while Scotty hovered over him anxiously. But something about the overheated room and cheers of the Regalians and the way Chekov just looked at him, all wide-eyed, biting his plush lower lip anxiously, his cheeks stained red with embarrassment -- it was making Leonard's stomach feel like it was flip-flopping in a weirdly pleasant way. Blame the drink, blame the crowd, blame the pretty boy seated next to him, blame whatever the hell was wrong with his better judgment, but he actually heard himself blurt out in a put-upon voice, "Maybe I _want_ to kiss you right now. You ever think about that?"

Chekov's lips parted in surprise as he stared at him, speechless. 

"Kiss, kiss!" demanded the Regalians. 

And Leonard McCoy, never exactly known for his moderation in life's pleasures, surged forward, cupping Chekov's heated soft cheeks in his hands as he joined their mouths together.

Christ almighty if the kid's lips weren't amazingly pliant, if he didn't know how to move them once he cottoned on to the fact that this crowd-ordered make out session was actually happening. 

Despite the ensuing boom of cheering, accompanied by delighted titters from around the room, Len could somehow still hear the sharp intake of breath Chekov made, the quiet vulnerable moan that passed from his mouth to Leonard's when Len slipped his tongue into Chekov's hot mouth, the gorgeous little whimper Chekov made when Leonard tipped his face up to get a better angle and tangled his fingers in those lovely tight curls at the nape of his neck. 

It was the increase in roaring applause that brought Leonard momentarily back to his senses. If he had thought the outburst when they had entered the room was crazy, this sounded like a veritable stampede. He pulled back in an awkward jerk. He didn't let go of Chekov, though, still threading through the soft hair gently, still cradling his jaw with one hand as he searched Chekov's eyes to see if Chekov was going to demand that Leonard go get bent for taking advantage of the situation like he just had. 

"Oh," Chekov murmured, pressing his lips together for a moment in a kind of bewildered pleasure. He grasped Len's wrists lightly, seemingly more to keep his hands in place than to protest any part of the liberties Leonard had just taken. The tip of his tongue darted out between the seam of his lips, as if he were trying to chase the taste of something he'd enjoyed but couldn't fully identify yet. He blinked a few times before his eyes darted back to Len's mouth. 

"Again!" a female Regalian called out during a slight lull in the cheering. 

Others picked up on her enthusiastic shout, some even beginning to clap rhythmically the way Leonard usually only heard groups do at major sporting events right before a big score. 

"What do you say?" he asked Chekov, his voice hoarse and rough. "Okay if we do that again?"

"Is wery okay," Chekov said in a dreamy voice, leaning in close and curling one of his slender hands up so that he could caress Len's neck.

Probably the kid had had way too much to drink himself, Leonard thought somewhere in the back of his mind. At least, he was pretty sure that was the idea floating around in the part of his brain that wasn't getting caught up in the bursts of fireworks behind his eyelids that went with the feel of Chekov pressed up against him, very nearly sliding into his lap as they kissed once more. Only that could explain the obvious zeal the ensign had suddenly developed for making out with a worn-out country doctor, and in front of a crowd of crowing drunken Regalians at that. 

Still, he couldn't blame Chekov for forgetting they had an audience. For Leonard, the room had definitely narrowed in scope until it was only the two of them, only the shy play of Chekov's fingertips as they stroked the nape of Len's neck, only the eager way Chekov opened his mouth to coax Leonard's tongue against his own, only the low pleased grunt Chekov made when Len stroked down his side along sleek muscle hidden by that crazy formal get-up to drop to his slim thigh straining against silken fabric, only --

"Hey, hey," Jim said loudly in Leonard's ear as he clapped Len on the shoulder. Under the cover of what probably seemed to others a congratulatory squeeze, Jim actually had to pull him right off Chekov. 

Jim waved merrily at the Regalians when they chorused a range of disappointed reactions, and turned back to Leonard, his smile wide but strained. "That's great, you know, giving the Regalians what they want. But I think we better keep the show all-audiences for the history books, am I right?"

With a scowl, Leonard straightened, automatically yanking the top of his dress uniform back into place and darting his eyes around him. 

Next to Jim, Spock had both eyebrows raised as high as they could go. The Federation representative on Spock's other side was actually flapping her hands as though beside herself, maybe torn between applauding along with the rest or physically hauling Leonard and Chekov apart in the name of Federation dignity.

"It would seem prudent to restrain yourself from further kissing at present, Doctor McCoy, lest your enthusiasm for the act lead to related inappropriate deeds at such a well-attended gathering," Spock intoned blandly. 

In other words, Leonard had just embarrassed the hell out of them all, and should probably hightail it out of there. 

"Yeah," Len said after a moment of blinking in the lights shining on them, the excited murmurs of the Regalians in the crowd, and the way the room had somehow gone from overheated to sauna-like temperatures in the minute or two that he had been kissing Chekov. "Yeah, okay." 

He glanced over at Chekov to see if he was all right and almost groaned aloud when he did. The kid looked -- well, he looked goddamn delectable and half-wrecked. His lips were gorgeously puffy and pink, his eyes were glazed over as if he was watching a favorite fantasy from inside his head come to life, and his whole body was slumped in an inviting sprawl in his chair, just as if he wouldn't mind in the least if a fellow were to lean in close and -- 

Leonard tore his eyes away. He turned to reach for his glass and pulled it toward him to take a fortifying swig.

...only to find that Jim had somehow gotten whatever Len been gulping replaced with water. Which, considering the continued cries of the crowd, made up half of disappointed protests that the kissing had stopped and half of raucous encouragement to get right back to it, and the way Chekov's cheeks were now blazing red with his eyes cast down to the table as though he were thoroughly embarrassed by the way Leonard had lost control of himself a moment ago, was probably just as well. 

*****

"Should probably head back to the ship," Leonard told Chekov an hour and a half later. Even though he'd decided that was the best plan of action about eighty-nine minutes back, he'd only just managed to get the words past his lips. Who could blame him, considering every time Leonard opened his mouth Chekov swayed perceptibly and enticingly towards him? 

"Yes, of course," Chekov said, sounding disappointed. It was probably the inebriation from all the drink still working its way through his system, Len told himself. There was no reason otherwise for Chekov to act like maybe he sort of wished Leonard might kiss him one more time. 

"Shall I see you to the beam up point?" Chekov asked. His voice had dropped, his eyes had widened, and he was actually biting his lower lip. Was that sultry? How many drinks had Len actually bolted for him to be thinking he was witnessing Pavel Chekov do sultry for the likes of him?

"No, you probably have things you need to take care of here. Royal things," Leonard said lamely.

"Indeed, I had hoped to get his highness's attention to go over a few small matters while he is still on Regalis tonight, late though the hour is," Sebastinio said, sending a simpering smile at the two of them and already gesturing for Chekov to come along. 

"I also have matters to discuss with Pavel Andreievich Chekov," Orsini announced, smiling toothily like the self-important bastard that he so obviously was. "Important Parliamentary matters of great significance for our monarch to comprehend." 

Leonard bristled at Orsini's confident smirk and stupid broad shoulders and romantic holovid film star looks. He never trusted guys like that. 

"You want me to hang around?" he asked Chekov pointedly. Most of the smattering of crewmembers who had attended their crazy engagement party had already beamed up, after all. The last Leonard had checked, only he, Chekov, Jim, and Spock remained. He didn't want to leave Chekov on his own. Wasn't that the whole point of his part in this marriage business? Even if this wasn't real, the two of them together (no matter how real it might have felt in those moments Chekov's lips were on his), he wouldn't stand for any guff from Orsini bossing Chekov around or maybe trying to imply that the Regalians had the wrong man on their throne. 

Chekov actually looked conflicted. Probably because Len wasn't the only one who would need a hangover-relieving vitamin supplement hydro come ship's morning. The kid was probably a little stumbly and confused right about now. Hell, given the way Chekov had melted into those kisses like he'd really wanted them and the way he was watching Len wistfully right now, he was probably so blotto that he would soon be fixing to beg Len to make him pancakes like Jim used to do when they were still at the Academy (or crepes, or whatever the hell Russians ate to carbo-load when they'd had too much tipple).

"No, is fine, I will take care of things," Chekov said after a long pause of just looking into Leonard's eyes. "Is _fine_ ," he added a moment later with a laugh, giving Len a playful push where he had his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Orsini.

"Well, I suppose I should organize the last round of sickbay visits," Len allowed. He slipped his comm out of his pocket to show to Chekov, tapped it once pointedly, and put it back where it had been. "Just give me a ring if something goes south, okay? I'm paying close attention to it now, in case you need anything, anything at all." 

"Yes, okay," Chekov nodded, smiling, a faint flush on his cheeks once more. 

Not knowing what else to add, Len pivoted and stalked his way back to the beam-up point. 

"Should probably get Jim, drag him away from whatever Regalian has their spindly fingers clutching his tunic just because he fluttered his eyelashes at them," he muttered to himself as he neared the set-aside zone for transport. But just as he was approaching the area, before he could contact his captain via comm and give a holler to see where the hell he'd gotten off to, he spied a flash of gold, a streak of blue, and realized he'd found Jim already. 

Or rather, Spock had found Jim first. He had found him right up against a wall in a dark alcove where they could hardly be seen, and was currently kissing him urgently, probably to show him how very found he was.

"Damn it all, what the hell was in those drinks?" Leonard said under his breath, half disgusted and half resigned to see the way the way Jim was clutching Spock like a lifeline and pressing his entire body against him. It wasn't like Len hadn't seen it coming for a long time, and damn it, Jim deserved to be happy, even if that meant Leonard probably wouldn't see much of his friend without Spock in the future.

Spock sure was handsy for a Vulcan who didn't like to be touched, Len thought to himself, turning away from the sight of Spock ardently grasping Jim's ass and yanking his body closer. And it looked like he more than knew what to do with a "Terran mouth to mouth brush," at least where Jim was concerned. 

When Leonard heard Jim gasp, and Spock make a sound like a low growl, he rolled his eyes and silently signaled the Enterprise so he could leave them to it. He tried not to worry about what Chekov was up to as he hunched his shoulders and waited for the transporter to beam him up alone.


	5. Chapter 5

"So for your stag night two days from now --" Jim began the following morning over breakfast. 

Len jerked his head up so fast from staring at his cup of coffee that he heard his spine crack. He turned to look at Jim in horror. "What? No! No one's having a stag night!"

Jim looked personally wounded. "Are you kidding me? You're getting married, Bones! That's huge! You've got to have a stag night with sexy dancers and card games and lots of alcohol. It's like, the law or something."

"Where? On planet Fraternity Assholes?" Len grumbled. He lifted the PADD he'd hauled along to breakfast in the officers' mess in front of his face and pointedly ignored Jim. 

"Look, Bones, I'm your best friend," Jim began in his best wheedling tone. He'd already done that duck and peer thing around the PADD which meant he was now eyeing Len from the side with a plaintive look on his half-hidden face. Stupid recent generation of PADDs and their scaled-down screens. Gone were the days when Len could easily block out Jim's wide blue eyes trying to entreat him to do something stupid and catch up on the latest medical journals at the same time.

"Says something about my taste," Len muttered. 

"And it's my duty to throw you a bachelor party, okay? So don't try to make me not do this."

Leonard pretended to think about it for a second. "No."

"Come on, I'm feeling like the worst captain ever right now." Jim lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "Two of my crew are getting married under sort-of duress, there are a heap of Regalians who are getting antsy and excited waiting for a crazy huge wedding bash, and now we're dealing with a whole bunch of Parliamentarians insisting they hold off on signing the papers ratifying their entrance into the Federation until after the ceremony."

"Not listening," Len muttered. 

"Plus, everyone in Engineering spent more time talking about what they should get you and Chekov for a wedding present yesterday than they did on fixing a burnt-out nanacel, my helmsman is more focused on boutonnières than he is on his mission reports, and Spock's mad at me today because -- well, I don't know why the hell he's mad at me, actually." He slumped in his seat and then he turned those big stupid baby blues on Len and said in his most plaintive voice, "Let me have this."

Len shot him an incredulous look. "Oh my god, are you reverting back to your strategies for trying to get your big boy bicycle or your first Little Captain Starfleet Halloween costume? You can't tell me this kind of thing ever worked on Winona." 

"No," Jim admitted, looking a little put out about it, too. "But you have to let me do nice stuff for you, on account of all the times you've saved my life and been there for me when things have gone to hell and junk."

"Give me one real reason why I should," Len argued. 

"I understand that you will be observing the period directly prior to your joining with Ensign Chekov with what is known as a 'stag night,'" Spock observed in his fun-times monotone as he took a place at their table with his own tray. 

Apparently Spock wasn't so miffed at Jim that he wasn't going to take his customary place at his side for breakfast. After all, how could he miss out on keeping that freaky Vulcan-y stare alternately tuned intently to whatever Jim was doing and scaring off any giggly ensigns or yeomen who might try to finagle a place at their table?

"Yeah, well, you heard wrong," Len shot back.

Spock merely arched an eyebrow as he began neatly eating what looked like a pile of cactus segments sprinkled with weird pollen and funky sprouts. Not that Len wasn't going to judge his culinary choices, especially not if maybe Jim's epic lust for his First Officer might actually drive him to copy Spock's healthy entrees and stop eating only those damn cheeseburgers all the time.

Of course, the way Jim was nervously wolfing down French fries -- which definitely weren't on his personal approved foods list and weren't supposed to be available at breakfast _anyway_ as per CMO's orders, damn it -- Leonard wasn't going to count on Jim adopting a new health food regime for love just yet. 

"Come on, Bones!" Jim alternated his glare at Len with a hopeful smile Spock's way. "It'll give Spock a chance to observe human rituals." When he looked Leonard's way again he raised his eyebrows as high up as they would go, a surefire Jim Kirk signal for _You gotta be my wingman right now, Bones, please please pleasepleaseplease!_.

"Indeed." Spock raised an eyebrow expectantly as he gazed at Len. 

"Plus it's your last night of freedom and all," Jim put in unwisely. "You don't want to miss out, do you?"

Len would have liked to shove his chair back as he got to his feet, but the damn mess hall seats were affixed to the tables with bolts. "Shut your mouth, Jim," he muttered as he stood to leave.

"Bones, hey, no! Don't be like that! Wait up," Jim called after him, abandoning his tray to hightail it after Len. 

"Don't you want to spend some quality time catching up with Spock?" Leonard said pointedly as Jim jogged by his side to keep up with his rapid pace. 

"Nope. Things are a little -- Spock might need some time, or --" Jim looked half like he was going to laugh out loud from sheer nervousness and half like his lower lip was fixing to slide out in an aggrieved pout. 

"Weird after the two of you made out last night? At least, I hope that's all you did," Leonard added when Jim's jaw dropped.

"How do you know about me and Spock?" Jim asked, incredulous and far too loud. Then, "No, seriously, how?" in a more hushed tone when two passing lieutenants looked at him curiously. "I thought nobody saw..." he trailed off with a wince when Leonard shot him a pointed look. 

"Let's just say you weren't exactly alone on Regalis Prime when you started up that lip lock last night. So what the hell was that, anyway?" Leonard gave Jim a sharp poke in the ribs and narrowed his eyes. He felt on firmer ground now, being the one to ask the questions and put Jim on the spot. "You looked like you were about to climb Spock like he was a tree." 

Jim eyed him defensively. "You want to know what the hell that was? Well, that makes two of us, because I want to know what the hell _you_ were thinking, kissing Chekov the way you did." 

"It's none of your damn business," Leonard grumbled.

"Oh, and what happens between me and Spock is yours?" Jim asked, looking like he was really getting upset now.

"Jim, you should know by now that everything you do is my damn business!" Len exploded.

"How does that not work both ways?" Jim asked in exasperation. "Look," he said in a softer voice, tugging Len to the side so that they could slip into in an empty briefing room instead of carrying on in the middle of a crowded corridor. "I thought you were doing this to help out, to be a nice guy. And then last night, the way you kissed Pavel, it sort of seemed like, well. Maybe you're getting married to Chekov because you actually want to be with him."

"Don't be an idiot."

"Oh, so you're saying you _don't_ want to be with him?" Jim planted his hands on his hips and frowned. "I mean, leaving aside the fact that you're marrying the guy in a couple of days, which would sort of seem to support the liking him romantically thing, if you're not interested in Chekov you were sending one hell of a mixed message last night the way you had your tongue down his throat. You can't just lead him on if you don't actually have feelings for the kid, Bones."

"Good thing you weren't leading Spock on, then, huh?" Len commented wryly. "The way the two of you were clinched together in that alcove, anyone would expect that you woke up this morning on some kind of straw mat beside a Vulcan meditation stone."

Jim's cheeks flushed an angry red. "Oh yeah? Well, for your information, I _did_ sort of lead him on, because nothing else happened besides a few kisses! We both went back to our rooms once we were aboard like good senior officers, without one more grope, and oh my god, _did_ I lead Spock on?" For a moment Jim looked shocked and worried. "Maybe he totally thought we were going to hook up, and I left him hanging right outside the door to my quarters! I was trying to be classy and leave the door open for something more, you know, serious, but -- maybe that means he thinks I don't want another chance. Maybe that means he won't give _me_ another chance!" Then he shook his head and his jaw went tight; unluckily for Len, it seemed like he was ready to shift gears and get right back to haranguing Len about his low down dirty dog ways. 

Leonard screwed up his face in aggravation, and prepared to let Jim have it when the lecture started up again. Yeah, he was ready to admit to himself he'd acted like an idiot the night before, but that didn't mean he had to stand for Jim needling him.

But then Jim Kirk had to go ahead and take a seat at the table and look up at Leonard soberly as he gestured for him to join him. Len scowled but sat down all the same.

Seeming every inch the Starfleet Captain, Jim said firmly, "I don't want you to hurt Chekov or confuse him about what this means. But I don't want to see you hurt either."

"Hell of a time for you to go all mature on me," Len groused, but his heart wasn't really in it. He slumped in the chair next to Jim's and sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Jim. Last night, I just --" He took a couple of deep breaths. "I let myself get caught up in the moment."

"Was that all it was?" And when had Jim gained that underlying strength in his voice that made Len want to blurt out the whole mess in his head before he figured out his jumble of thoughts for himself? 

Not trusting himself to speak, Len nodded. Then he made himself say, "It's just a formality, this wedding, just for ceremony. It's to smooth things over with the Regalians. I know that. The kid knows that. No one's going to try to complicate things, and no one's going to try to pretend it means a damn thing to either of us." 

"Okay. If you say the two of you have it worked out, then fine." Jim folded his hands and looked at Len calmly. Then he waggled his eyebrows. "Still, bachelor party, am I right?"

As Len stormed out of the room and away from his captain, a plaintive, "Aww, come on, Bones!" echoed after him. 

*****

Len would have been perfectly fine with avoiding Jim for the next few days. Only then his damn Captain called a mandatory meeting on the following day, calling for all the personnel that Leonard and Chekov had indicated they wanted involved in the actual service to attend. That way, in lieu of a time-consuming wedding rehearsal down on the planet, they could run through the plans together on the ship. 

Len imagined the Regalians had objected to missing the chance to throw another hullabaloo and party for the rehearsal dinner. That crowd sure seemed to love pomp and ceremony. But obviously they were coming up quick on the actual wedding day, and everyone involved understood that there was only so much time left to take care of the details. Hell, if Leonard had his way, there would be no run-through at all; he figured that the ritual-obsessed Regalians and the well-trained crew could fumble their way through a structured ceremony without practice. 

"It's to make sure we don't stick our collective feet in our mouths and mess up this Topaline deal for the Federation, I'm sure of it," Len grumbled to Christine as he handed over his open chart PADDs to her and prepared to leave sickbay. "Because since when does Jim care about protocol like that, unless the brass is leaning on him?"

"Well, whatever it's for, just pay attention," Christine told him briskly. "We can't have you tripping over that foot in your mouth on the way down the aisle and ruining Chekov's wedding day, now, can we?"

"Yeah, well, it's my wedding day too," he muttered, but she wasn't paying him one jot of attention, already having moved on to chat with the whiny ensign who had been waiting to talk about his poor little sprained finger.

As he walked by the door to his office, he paused, wondering if he should try yet again to get in touch with his daughter. He'd spoken to his dad once via audio link, verifying that Joanna was having a terrific time on Marina II with her grandparents. But every other time he got through it seemed Joanna had just gone to sleep or was invited to a friend's for dinner or out playing with the neighbor kids. 

Despite his mother's offer to schedule a set time for Joanna to speak with him, he didn't push to make it happen. Not when Joanna was probably having the time of her life, getting to be the new girl on the colony and making lots of friends. No way would he want to interrupt any of that, particularly when she'd experienced her own tough times after the divorce. Knowing that his shy and withdrawn little girl was getting a taste of being carefree on this visit, even if only for a while, was more important than having a desultory conversation about whether she was minding her grandparents and eating all her vegetables. 

Besides, if he did reach Joanna directly right now, he still wasn't entirely sure what he would tell her about this whole upcoming wedding debacle. Would he give her the bare bones, just saying he was getting married and leaving it at that? Or would he go into detail about Chekov and his razor-sharp mind and green eyes and appealing habit of smiling to himself whenever the two of them were together and he thought Len wasn't watching? Or would he take the angle of the whole royalty tale like it was a bedtime story, play up the part about Chekov on the throne, and Daddy getting to be the royal spouse? Joanna had always liked those stories about girls who discovered they were in fact princesses, even if Jocelyn insisted that fairy tales weren't good for kids. 

With a glance at his wrist chrono, he mutely shook his head and turned toward the door. There was no point trying to call right now, obviously. Clearly he had to get going if he was going to make the meeting. 

He pushed away the rush of relief in his mind at the thought of not having to bring the topic up to his kid for just a while longer.

He trudged down the corridor, weaving through the people on their way to Medical or taking a short cut through to Sciences, and spotted the ready turbolift just as it was about to close.

"Hey, hold it," he yelled.

"Take the next one, buddy," someone called out in a teasing voice, and a few people laughed.

"Very funny," Len grumbled as he shouldered his way into the crowded lift. He much preferred the more exclusive smaller lift that operated between the bridge and the rest of the ship, prioritized for officers and bridge crew. This one, like the other lifts, was designed for more general transport, sized to ferry a dozen crewmen all over the ship. It made frequent stops and tended to be crowded. Sure, Len had the authority to override all those other destinations for patients needing to get to sickbay in an emergency and to tell all the non-essential occupants to scram. But he definitely couldn't justify forcing everyone else to disembark and using his bypass code when he was merely running late to a non-urgent meeting on account of dragging his feet.

"Lieutenant," he said to a no-nonsense woman from Engineering who gave him a quick nod in acknowledgement. She stepped back and to the side slightly so he could make his way to an open spot. He was about to grumble that she could have just shifted over herself when he realized that the empty space the lieutenant had left for him put him right next to Ensign Pavel Chekov.

He stifled a sigh and took the vacated place. She probably thought she was doing Len a favor, letting him in next to his _fiancé_. Of course there was no way for her to have known he'd been lollygagging on his way to the meeting because he knew that things were bound to be damn awkward between him and Chekov at the moment. They hadn't spoken so much as word one since that ill-advised make-out session in front of the upper echelons of Regalian society last night. Well, he supposed they might as well start the awkwardness a few minutes ahead of schedule. 

By the time the lift door had shut and Leonard slid in alongside Chekov, a number of interested eyes turned their way. Just great. Now they had an audience for this weirdness. _Oh, are you headed to a meeting about our supposedly real wedding too? Same here!_ he imagined saying while the others looked on avidly. Damn it, he was a doctor, not some cheesy holovid soap opera performer! 

"Hello," Chekov blurted a little too loudly as soon as Len's gaze met his. 

Someone in the little clutch of crewmen let out a heartfelt, "Awww!" In the opposite corner, one ensign giggled. 

"Something funny, Douglass?" Len called out.

"No. Um, no, sir," the ensign replied, obviously trying to bite back a smile from spreading over his face. 

"Hi," Leonard finally replied in a lower tone to Chekov. Chekov dipped his head in a second greeting and then smiled shyly. "I'm guessing we're headed to the same place." There, that ought to be furtive enough to not haul out personal information in front of the others and friendly seeming enough for a guy chatting with his husband-to-be. 

"Da," Chekov said eagerly. "I mean, yes." 

They rode in relative silence for a moment until they reached the next stop, where one of Spock's little protégés crammed himself into the increasingly crowded space, muttering to himself and barely making eye contact with anyone. They sure were a barrel of laughs, those guys down in Sciences. 

Leonard glanced up to see Chekov watching him. Well, at least the kid was watching his mouth, his own lips absently parted all the while. Probably Chekov was wishing Len would say something else to dispel the tension. No doubt this was just strange for both of them. Too bad, Len thought sourly; much as he didn't like the idea of Chekov feeling weird about anything, he was never one for unnecessary chit-chat, especially if he felt pressured to carry on in front of a bunch of people. And a full lift crowded with nosy crewmembers who clearly would be better off minding their own business definitely didn't inspire him to blather on about nothing in particular just for laughs.

Besides, he wasn't sure if anything he tried to say to Chekov right now wouldn't come out all wrong. After all, even after wrestling with the subject on his own when he unsuccessfully tried to catch some sleep last night and all the while he was forcing himself to get ready to face the ship's morning, he still wasn't sure how he should deal with the topic. Maybe he should be making excuses for kissing Chekov like it was going out of style at the party, or finding a way to laugh off that unplanned make-out session like it was nothing, as it probably was to Chekov. 

If he opened his mouth now, he might blurt out something ridiculous like, _You smell good_ (which Chekov seriously did; Leonard wasn't sure how since he probably used the standard issue soap the rest of them got for their sonic showers). Or worse, _Hey, I'm not sure if you noticed, but my hands meet perfectly in the small of your back_ (which they definitely did; Len had been manfully trying without much luck to push right out of his head all the ways that his body was telling him the two of them fit like they were made for each other). 

So to cover up the oddness he tried a smile. If the way Chekov glanced away was any indication, it had probably looked more like a scowl. Ah, hell. Well, he'd come up with something to say to Chekov by the time they got off the lift and hopefully smooth over any ruffled feathers then.

"Could it get any more packed?" he grumbled when one ensign skipped off and two more crowded on. Luckily at the very next stop someone at the door to the lift said, "Sorry, all full," to some unlucky crewmember who had obviously rushed up to catch a ride. And they were on their way again.

At first everyone else seemed content to stay as quiet as he and Chekov were. At least none of them were probably going through any personal nuttiness over forced engagements and upcoming marriages; though, if they were, Leonard didn't want to hear a single word about it. Could be they were experiencing that sleepy reaction to the late-day lull of ship's afternoon that Jim often complained about. If only all the idiots on board would get their eight hours, they'd have nothing to complain about. 

The lights in the turbolift shaft flashed by, vertical and then horizontal as the lift adjusted to its next destination. The shifting and swaying of their motion set Chekov into a small stumble, and a second later he was pressing against Len's body. "Apologies," Chekov said under his breath. He quickly looked up at Len and then down again, biting his lip. 

"Don't think anything of it," Len said, his voice hoarse. He nearly resisted the urge to reach out and steady Chekov with a hand resting at his waist but did it anyway at the last minute. Well, what was he supposed to do, let the kid fall when he could have prevented it? 

"Thank you," Chekov told him softly.

Len just jerked a nod in reply. When he realized he was still touching Chekov's hip he snatched his hand back. 

One of the mess staff on the other side of the lift nudged the woman standing to his right and winked not so subtly. With a sinking feeling Len realized that maybe the reason the group was so quiet was that they were seriously was hoping for some kind of spectacle to take place between him and Chekov. What were they expecting, that he was going to dip the kid tango-style and kiss him passionately for their amusement? When a few of them caught his eye with their blatant stares, Len glowered until they had the decency to look away.

But then the same lieutenant who had greeted Len began asking her neighbor about the new snacks that were supposed to be available at the commissary but hadn't arrived yet. Thankfully just a few words spoken aloud seemed to relax the tension a bit. Moments later, other conversations began or restarted, providing a background hum of small talk that evened out the periodically surging and waning drone of the lift engines. 

After a second or two Leonard decided it was probably safe to say something to Chekov without anyone peering their way. Better than standing there stiffly watching the way too attractive lingering blush on Chekov's cheeks. 

Trouble was, what should he say? _Sorry for pawing at you the other night_ didn't seem like the best opener. Or how about, _listen, if you end up having a few too many on our wedding night, don't worry about me trying anything, because I actually get how little this is supposed to mean to either of us, all evidence from the way I kissed you like Atlanta was burning the other night to the contrary_. 

He should say something, though. At the moment all the other turbolift occupants seemed fine with their own conversations, no longer unduly eager to see if Chekov and he were going to do something relationship-y. They reacted quickly at the various stops to get off on the decks they were headed to or stepped further inside to help newcomers find a spot. But instead of setting Len's mind at ease to know no one was paying them any attention, it made Leonard feel increasingly uncomfortable that he and Chekov seemed the only ones not to have a few words to exchange.

When he glanced up, he saw Chekov's head was bowed slightly, and that there was a small smile on his face. Leonard nearly repeated what he'd said to the annoying ensign at the start of the turbolift ride, _Something funny?_ Because maybe Chekov thought it was amusing, how Len was obviously at a loss for words. After all, he kind of had Len over a barrel with the embarrassing things that had gone on last night, every single one of which Len had drunkenly instigated. 

Len sighed and reined in his surly thoughts. He should know better that Chekov wasn't that type of kid, really. He had a kindness and openness to his manner that made Leonard doubt he'd ever made fun of anyone except in a friendly, teasing way. 

Then Chekov caught his eye and smiled a little wider, a crooked appealing grin that had Leonard unconsciously starting to smile back. 

"This meeting, it should not take too long, I think," Chekov said hesitantly. He seemed almost breathless, though lord knew why; there had been enough stops in between all of Leonard's brooding that there was no excuse for either of them to puff or wheeze, even if Len had been running to catch the lift initially. 

"It better not," Len complained. "I don't have time to sit around and listen to Jim go over stuff the rest of us take as common sense. I've got plenty to do down in sickbay without all of these interruptions." 

For some reason, Chekov seemed to find this funny too, because he smiled again at Len, open and sweet. 

"I like that about you," he said suddenly.

Len blinked. "Come again?"

"Your strong feelings about things," Chekov clarified. "Your passions," he continued in a slightly lower voice.

Someone else in the lift coughed pointedly.

"For your work primarily, of course," Chekov added quickly. 

"Thanks," Len said uncomfortably. "I always thought you had that too," he said after a pause. He waved the hand that wasn't holding onto the lift stability bar vaguely. "You're damn good at what you do, and you get your job done without much drama or fuss. I respect that."

Chekov pressed his lips together, seeming like he was trying to hold back another grin. "To hear such a thing from you is very nice. Truthfully, I did not think that you noticed me much. Until lately, of course."

"Oh, no," Len disagreed. Some of the others seemed to have tuned in to their conversation and were leaning in a bit, apparently trying to catch their words. Len gave one in his line of vision the stink eye before he shifted, bodily trying to keep Chekov away from their gazes and keep the conversation between them private. "I always noticed you." Because he had, of course. It was hard to miss a boy genius on the ship fixing anything and everything crying out for desperate solutions during their crisis moments. Even during the lulls and milk runs, it was tough to avoid seeing Chekov at his station whenever Len lurked around the bridge; he couldn't help but notice how much both Jim and Spock relied on his competency and enthusiasm. 

And if he'd also noticed Chekov a time or two because the kid was very easy on the eyes, well. No one but him had to know about that embarrassing little piece of information. 

For some reason Len's gruff words had made Chekov turn bright pink. "That is good to know," he said almost to himself. Then he cleared his throat and met Len's gaze squarely. "I have some time after this meeting the captain has called. Lately I have been quite occupied with the Regalians, but today there is no such commitment to which I must adhere. Perhaps if you have some time yourself," Chekov said before he hesitated. 

"Yeah, I've got some time," Len admitted. There was always work down in sickbay, but Geoff M'Benga was on duty, and it would keep. 

"We could share lunch," Chekov said quickly. His cheeks burned once again after saying the words, but he looked eager to hear Len's answer, not like he'd flushed because he regretted extending the invitation. "That is, if you are agreeable --"

"That'd be just fine," Leonard said gruffly. "I can take you to the Officer's Mess if you like, or --"

"Or, if you like, my quarters," Chekov offered. He laughed a little, seeming slightly nervous. "Only because that way we can speak alone and not be interrupted."

"Or worry about busybodies listening in," Len said pointedly, glaring at a Yeoman who had joined the lift at the last stop and seemed overly interested in what they were saying. Instead of looking cowed, she gave him an innocent smile and didn't even have the courtesy to avert her eyes. 

"That is true as well, I suppose," Chekov said, seeming amused. "Well? Will you join me in my quarters for lunch and conversation?"

When Chekov's words caught up to him, Len nodded slowly. He had no idea what Chekov wanted to speak to him about privately, but it didn't seem like anything bad. He supposed it would be a good chance for them, maybe an opportunity to iron out some of those marriage-related issues and expectations. It had been on his mind, obviously; hard not for it to be when Christine had reminded him daily that he ought to be scheduling such a conversation with Chekov, preferably before they walked down the aisle together as husband and husband. 

It was best all around they tackled that stuff today, Len decided. Maybe Chekov had a couple of conditions that he'd thought up to make his life easier once he had to be married to Leonard. Maybe Leonard would have a chance to mention how he didn't expect anything from Chekov once they were wed. 

Or maybe it was something else entirely, not at all about limits or keeping things exactly the way they had been before either of them had ever imagined they'd be calling the other man husband. Leonard felt an almost pleasant flutter of curiosity in his chest. Despite his tendency to go into situations expecting the worse, maybe some of this strange and unlikely situation could turn out more or less okay for them both.

"I'd like that," he found himself saying.

Chekov beamed at him, again swaying toward Len as the turbolift movement had them shuttling along a horizontal path.

Well, what the hell, Leonard told himself crossly, no longer bothering to check whose eyes were trained on them. He reached out to steady Chekov just in case he needed it. He didn't want the kid to be embarrassed about falling into him, or getting teased by his crewmates for stumbling on the turbolift like a plebe. But when he touched Chekov's shoulder, Chekov didn't pull back with muttered thanks or correct his posture with a mumbled excuse. Instead he leaned into Len, looking at him with those pretty green eyes wide and shining, those lips that Len now knew were soft and oh-so-kissable parted hopefully, and Leonard, instead of letting go, curled his fingers a little tighter around that slim shoulder. 

"Awww," the same voice from the start of the ride murmured from across the lift.

Chekov jumped and pulled himself back slightly. He grinned at Len even though his cheeks were now flushed a deep pink. 

"Mind your own beeswax," Len snapped, scowling again when most of the other turbolift riders snickered instead of looking abashed. "Ignore them," he advised Chekov in a low growl, yanking Chekov a little closer away from their nosy audience.

"All right," Chekov said, gazing into Len's eyes. And there was that breathless voice again. Maybe Leonard should have him checked out for lung capacity issues. Hearing it made Leonard want to slide a hand to the small of Chekov's back and support him there, just in case. After all, he already knew just how well his hands fit perfectly right at that spot.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The command team meets to iron out the details of the wedding ceremony, but somehow more wrinkles come up.

"Great, so we're all here," Jim said as Sulu sprinted into the room and took the last remaining place at the table on Chekov's left.

"Sorry, there was a problem they needed my help with down in Botany," he apologized generally. "I don't know who thought it would be a good experiment to breed those enormous rapid movement cacti from The Tani Colony so they have moving arms that try to hug people who wander near them, but --"

"Shall we begin?" Spock interrupted tonelessly.

"Yeah, go crazy," Sulu said, rolling his eyes at Chekov. "Sir," he added quickly when Spock raised an eyebrow in his direction. He paused, though, and did an obvious double-take when he noticed Leonard sitting next to Chekov on his right. 

Leonard frowned at Sulu when he saw the helmsman's eyes go wide in surprise at their positions. Well, what was he supposed to do, head to the meeting with the kid right at his side and then take a seat clear across the table? Of course they were sitting next to each other! It didn't mean anything. Leonard sat next to tons of other crewmen all the time in all sorts of interminable meetings, and obviously he wasn't sweet on any of them.

But Sulu didn't seem to think it was a random arrangement that could just as easily have occurred with most of the other seats being already taken. Okay, fine, so the chairs had all been free when they'd gotten there because he and Chekov were the first ones to arrive, but that was beside the point. 

After a small nod for Len, Sulu leaned back a bit and gave Chekov what he obviously thought was a hidden but enthusiastic thumbs up. When Chekov sent him an exasperated and embarrassed look back, Sulu grinned before he turned back to pay attention to Jim. 

Len hunched his shoulders and brooded over the display. Who knew what the hell that was about? Well, he didn't have time to work out whatever little private code the Enterprise's navigator and helmsman had made up during the long stretching of traversing boring patches of deep space just because they were bestest pals. He had another useless meeting to suffer through. 

"Right, starting off, Bones has asked me to be his best man," Jim said to the table at large. He beamed when the people at the table nodded or made approving noises. "He pretty much had to, obviously, or I would never have let him forget it. But yeah, so I'm standing up for Bones. All the Regalians were pretty glad to hear they were getting a bonus Federation starship Captain taking part in the ceremony."

"Don't let it go to your head," Leonard advised. Jim generally vacillated between finding diplomatic maneuvering annoying and finding it gratifying that various aliens were so impressed by his status and charm. If he'd been close enough, Len would have poked Jim right in his puffed-up chest to drive his point home. 

"You know you love me, Bones," Jim said blithely. "It's too late to deny it now."

It was completely not Leonard's imagination that Spock eyed him mistrustfully and moved several centimeters closer to Jim. 

"And Hikaru Sulu, as my closest friend, has agreed to stand as my witness," Chekov put in, flashing a small smile at Sulu. 

"I'm honored to do it, dude," Sulu said, grinning back. "Ensign," he added in exasperation when Spock gave him a pointed look. 

"Hey now, I think we can be a little informal in a meeting like this, don't you, Spock?" Jim observed. He gave Spock a friendly little punch to the upper arm. 

"Indeed, Captain," Spock answered, before almost imperceptibly positioning himself even closer to Jim (and not so incidentally in a subtle block between Jim and the rest of the people in the room). 

And right there was the reason that Leonard thought anyone who didn't know those two idiots were in love ought to get their heads checked. At the start of their mission, Spock would have looked completely askance at such a casual touch from Jim. Now he looked like he was covetous of more contact, storing up the encounter for some lengthy and no doubt _logical_ personal review of the moment in private. Leonard rolled his eyes, not caring who saw. Obviously he wanted the two of them to find their bliss or whatever, and if that meant being with one another romantically, great. Personally, he would be happy as a clam if they would just work through this dancing around each other thing they apparently still had going on. But that didn't stop it from being damn creepy to watch. 

"So both Sulu and I, in addition to taking part in the group at the altar, will be expected to say a couple of things about each of you. Plus someone from Medical is going to say a few words about Bones before the first set of vows --"

"All of that's at the reception, you mean," Len interrupted. "Speeches and whatnot." 

"Nope," Jim said absently as he located his place ticking off the various elements of the ceremony. "There's that too, speeches at the celebration afterward, but in accordance with Regalian tradition there are supposed to be speeches celebrating the couple at the wedding itself. In between the different sets of vows, of course."

"Seriously? More than one round of vows?" Sulu asked.

"The Regalians take the wedding ceremony wery seriously," Chekov said apologetically; he'd clearly been briefed on that sort of thing during his string of meetings on the planet. 

"Yes, the separate vow sets are distinct and each emphasizes different core values. It's fascinating, really," Ensign Rusesk, their resident expert on Regalian culture put in. 

"Well, that's just swell," Leonard snapped. This whole thing was building up to be never-ending.

"Then Junior Lieutenant Bassili is going to talk briefly about Chekov," Jim went on. He looked up for a moment, a grin crinkling his eyes. "You knew him from back in the Academy days, right?"

"Yes, sir; he was my roommate," Chekov answered.

"Awesome." Jim checked off another item. "Okay, and I think Orsini will be contributing a quick-ish speech about how much this marriage and Chekov's ascension to the throne mean to the Regalian people." He bit his lip as he ran a finger down his PADD to keep track of his list. "Let's see -- she couldn't attend this rehearsal meeting, but I should note that Yeoman Rand has agreed to sing as part of the ceremony. That's after vow set _numero dos_."

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Rusesk gushed. She actually looked like she might clap her hands together in delight. "The Regalians put a high premium on heartfelt songs; having someone from the Enterprise sing will be a show of friendship and good faith." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is she the only crewmember of the Enterprise who will sing?"

"Let's hope so," Len said. "This thing is starting to sound like a three-ring circus."

"Only more speech-y," Sulu contributed under his breath. 

"Well, Rand will probably be enough as far as a show of friendship and good faith," Jim said, sounding distracted. "She's got a voice like an angel, even if she's really bossy and mean about ship's business sometimes." Jim made a face, like he was remembering the last time Rand had him complete some required report that he'd tried to skip. 

"Big baby," Len muttered. Rand was the best of that bunch of doe-eyed yeomen as far as he was concerned. 

"Let's see, what's next -- oh, I'm pretty sure the Regalians have lined up that same little kid chorus that sang at the engagement party to do another national anthem or three," Jim added, ignoring Len and jotting down another item on the PADD.

"Doctor McCoy's right. Sounds like it's getting kinda complicated," Hendorff observed from the far end of the table where he sat with his meaty arms crossed over his chest. He would be in charge of security for the event, Jim had mentioned to Leonard earlier, especially since the Regalians were more or less used to seeing him with the Enterprise entourage now. Len figured having Hendorff in tow couldn't hurt. That way, even if everyone else in attendance was ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the romantic prospects of what was in reality an arranged match, at least he'd have one dour guy to glare at from time to time during the ceremony. 

"Well, Sebastinio said he'll make sure everything goes off without a hitch, keep everything lined up and cue people as to when they're supposed to do what," Jim answered. "Shouldn't be longer than that engagement party, I figure." He paused, glancing again at his PADD and its itemized list of components. "Well, not _much_ longer," he added doubtfully.

"Oh joy," Len observed sourly. "Singing, wedding speeches, more items on the program than you can shake a stick at, all sorts of hullaballoo. Why don't we just add to the commotion: have Spock be the Flower Girl and go tripping down the aisle strewing petals to start things off." 

Sulu snorted. "What you see in this guy I have no idea," he muttered under his breath to Chekov.

Before Leonard could object that obviously Chekov saw nothing in particular in him, except as a way to satisfy some pressing marital obligations, calm down a planet of fanatical royalty boosters, and ensure the Federation got their mitts on some plentiful stores of rare Topaline, Spock tilted his head to the side and spoke. 

"Though of course the gendered portion of that appellation does not apply to me, I did not realize from my studies of Terran and Regalian marriage rites that there was a role in the ceremony for a participant who boasted horticultural expertise. Surely Mister Sulu, with his admirable background in Botany, would be better suited to such a position."

"Bones is just giving you a hard time, Spock," Jim murmured. "A flower girl is a little kid in an Earther wedding party that you have trot out before the bride and groom -- or groom and groom, or whatever -- to make everyone waiting for the couple's big entrance coo and smile." 

At that, Spock sent Len a look of dignified aggravation (which meant he was well and truly bent out of shape about a harmless offhand joke). Jim winked at Len's scowl and tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Besides, the flower girl totally has to be Cupcake." 

Hendorff snorted at that. "At least then you'd know you have the prettiest possible flower girl in the galaxy," he said in his tough-guy grunt. 

"Right on. Good for you, Hendorff," Sulu said with a grin, while Jim looked vaguely disgruntled at not getting the last laugh. 

"Permission to move on?" Uhura asked briskly. She barely waited for Jim's nod before she continued, "Just as Chekov has asked, I'll be doing the first cultural reading." She sent a small smile Chekov's way. 

Leonard gave her a grateful look even if she hadn't meant the smile for him. Despite his wisecracking to alleviate the tension, he definitely wanted to get this whole catalogue of wedding tasks over with, though maybe for reasons he hadn't expected. Sure, before he'd gotten on that lift, he would have liked nothing better than to hightail it out of the meeting and hole himself up in his office in sickbay where nobody could hassle him. But now he was impatient for the meeting to wrap up in part so that he and Chekov could continue on to have lunch together and discuss whatever it was Chekov wanted to talk about. He turned slightly to Chekov to flash him a little reassuring expression and saw Chekov's eyes widen. 

"You okay?" Len asked in an undertone while the others kept up rattling on about the details.

"Flower Girl," Chekov exclaimed loudly. "Wait, no, we do have such a one." 

"Okay, no matter what Jim says next, we are not letting Keenser do it just because he's the right height," Leonard interrupted. 

"Not even if he'd look super hilarious in a puffy white dress?" Sulu asked plaintively.

"Nah, we can't have the Regalians think we're treating any moment of this wedding like a joke," Jim said reluctantly. Len could tell he'd pictured Keenser in a frou-frou get-up as soon as Len had made mention of it and was already mourning the loss of such a ridiculous opportunity. "Besides, he's no girl." He paused. "Is he?" he asked Spock in an undertone. Spock solemnly shook his head no. 

"No, _your_ girl must do it," Chekov said quickly to Leonard.

"What now?" Len asked, confused.

"I mean, your daughter," Chekov went on excitedly. "She must have role in the wedding! I did not even consider -- everything has happened so quickly, and I did not take into account that of course you would wish your daughter to take part if at all possible." He let out a string of Russian words that sounded a hell of a lot like self-recrimination and then shook his head. "Nyet, I apologize, I just mean to say, that I did not make arrangements before this."

"Hey, yeah," Jim cut in. "Gah, I suck, Bones, because I totally forgot about that too. But do you want to try and get Joanna out here for your wedding?" He frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Of course, she can't make it to Regalis Prime in only two days. At least it wouldn't be all the way from Earth, though, if she's still on that outpost of the colony on Marina II staying with your folks."

"From Marina II orbital station, in six point two three days Joanna McCoy could reach Regalis Prime," Chekov supplied, obviously doing the calculations in his head based on the location Jim had mentioned. He turned to Jim. "Captain, I know the Regalians are eager for the wedding to proceed, and gave us the week's extension to complete the ceremony as a courtesy at the outset. But after my dealings with them, I feel certain that were they to understand about Leonard's daughter, surely they would agree to wait another week so that she could arrive in time."

"They'd probably like it, actually," Jim said slowly. "Anyone else notice that they're kind of a bunch of romantics down on that planet?"

"The population does seem to enjoy sentimental displays," Spock noted. 

"The Federation would probably like it too," Uhura put in, giving Leonard a small apologetic look. She knew all too well how much he liked to complain about Federation interference when prestige and wealth in resources were the obvious priorities instead of people's lives. "On the bright side of that, they might be able to expedite her trip on faster shuttles. That way she can reach ship's orbit even sooner, and have some time with her father before the wedding."

Chekov nodded enthusiastically. "If the Federation is able to do such a thing, I'm sure that would be wery nice for you. And maybe it would allow some time for me to meet your Joanna and for us to get to know one another." Chekov sent an apprehensive but strangely hopeful look Leonard's way. 

Leonard frowned down at his hands, wondering exactly who had been putting ideas into the kid's head about having obligations to Len's daughter. Whoever it was, he wanted to give them a piece of his mind. Never mind the other ways this marriage was apparently going to limit Chekov from pursuing other relationships if Sulu's take on the whole fidelity thing was accurate. But apparently someone had convinced Chekov he would have to play stepfather too, just because Len had offered to help him out of a fix?

"I have many young cousins," Chekov kept on, growing more enthusiastic as he continued to speak. "I am wery used to entertaining them and speaking to them about all matter of things. I think it would be an adwantage in getting to know your daughter. My hope is that Joanna and I would get along wery well."

"Now, look, it's awfully nice of you to think of it," Leonard began slowly. "But there doesn't seem much point to it, does there?"

Next to him, Chekov stiffened. On Chekov's other side, Sulu gave Len an incredulous look. 

At the head of the table, Jim cleared his throat. "Hey, Bones, maybe we could figure out all those details after --"

"How do you mean?" Chekov asked awkwardly. 

"Well, it's not the same as if we were genuinely getting married because we wanted to, right?" Len cleared his throat when Jim looked uneasy. Hell, it wasn't just Jim: everyone else in the room either shifted uncomfortably in their seats or sent sharp looks Len's way. "Just, I know we're spinning the situation a different way for most of the other crewmembers and the folks down on Regalis Prime. But all of us in this room know Chekov and I are getting hitched for those political planetary-peace reasons we've been talking about." 

When even Hendorff gave Len an admonishing look and then shook his head, Len spread his hands and appealed directly to Jim. "I just wouldn't want you to go to any trouble, or have any Federation resources wasted on getting Joanna all the way out here when it's not even a real wedding she'd be coming to see." 

"Bones, I don't think any resources would be wasted," Jim began quietly.

"Given the diplomatic factors at stake for a species of humanoid that seems keen on the topics of family and inheritance, one could deem it a logical use of Federation resources to expedite your daughter's journey so that she might attend the wedding's events," Spock added. 

"Hey, none of you need to do me any special favors just because I got roped into this," Len objected. 

When Uhura's lips parted in a look of indignation, Len realized the god-awful phrasing that had just come out of his mouth and hastened to add, "Right, I know, I volunteered to help out, I didn't mean anyone actually _made_ me do this, okay?" 

In some consternation he turned to Chekov and added, "And it's not like you should feel any obligation to, I don't know, get to know Joanna for future visits or play step-dad for a couple of days when you already have enough on your plate. It hasn't come up until now, obviously, but just so you know, I wouldn't expect anything of you where Joanna is concerned. So don't worry about that." 

Sulu let out an almost imperceptible groan and let his head tip back so he was staring at the ceiling. "Un-believable," he said under his breath.

"Doctor McCoy, instead of striking the idea down outright, maybe you should think instead about how kind it was of Chekov to want to involve your daughter, and accept whatever help is likely to be offered in the Federation's intercession to facilitate the matter," Uhura said in the clipped way she got when she was well and truly pissed off. Len hadn't heard her sound that frosty since the last time she'd told Jim where he could shove it after he'd made yet another drunken pass at her during their first shore leave. 

"Now, wait just a minute," Leonard snapped at her. "I'm not disrupting my kid's life to drag her out here so she can witness some kind of marriage of convenience. I don't know what the rest of you think I ought to do, but I can tell you right now that would only confuse her."

"Okay, so you hadn't thought about having her come to the wedding before now. But obviously, whatever the exact circumstances, you are _getting married_ , right?" Sulu said sharply. "Why not look into having her come to the wedding if it's a possibility? Would you seriously rather send her a remote communication and have her find out about the wedding that way?"

"What _were_ you planning to tell her, Bones?" Jim asked. He spoke familiarly, as though it was just the two of them figuring out a problem in the privacy of their academy dorm room, like the old days. When Spock leaned back in his chair, Jim glanced around the table uneasily, seeming surprised to remember they were in a meeting with other crew. 

"I wasn't planning on telling her anything," Len burst out. "She's had enough tumult in her life with her mom and me splitting up and then me taking off for godforsaken deep space. I don't want to cause any more instability or confusion by getting her caught up in all this nonsense."

Spock steepled his fingers and appeared to examine Leonard as if he were a very intriguing mold sample. "One would think that because you are taking part in this ceremony and embarking on this venture, no matter how real it seemed to you at its inception, that you would at this point wish to include your daughter in such a major life event." 

"Yeah? Well, she's my daughter, and I'm the one who decides what's best for her in this situation." 

"You are of course right," Chekov broke in stiffly. "Forgive me. I did not mean to interfere in your family matters, as I have already done in your personal life due to this situation." He stood. "Captain, if you will excuse me, I believe the remainder of the planning meeting for the wedding can continue without me."

Jim gave Len a worried look but nodded after a pause. "Dismissed, Ensign."

"Wait, I thought we were going to have lunch or something," Leonard said dumbly. "Hey," he called out after Chekov as he watched him continue toward the exit. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Chekov paused as the door slid open upon his approach. "I -- find that I should instead consult with the Regalians further in case they have any additional questions. You will excuse me." He gave a curt nod to the room in general and slipped through the open doorway. 

"Very diplomatically handled, Doctor," Uhura said flatly.

"Bones," Jim began, and Leonard couldn't tell if he meant it as the start of an admonishment or a sympathetic gesture. But he didn't much feel like finding out, so he stood, not meeting the eyes of anyone in the room. "Looks like you can carry on without me too," he grumbled before he left as well. 

As he walked down the corridor alone, shoulders slumped and a scowl on his face, Leonard couldn't decide where to start finding fault first. With himself for handling everything so poorly? With Chekov, for bringing up such a personal issue in front of everyone when Leonard hadn't worked out for himself yet how his daughter might learn about this damn marriage? With everyone else for assuming that only Chekov's feelings could be hurt in this situation, and that there wasn't anything at stake in Leonard's life that might just be impacted by this crazy wedding?

He sighed as he rounded the curve in the hallway and came upon a nice empty turbolift he could have all to his lonesome. At least with everyone probably mad as hell at him, no one was likely to want to throw him some annoying bachelor party in two more days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len didn't really think he was going to get out of having a bachelor party, did he?

Of course the bachelor party went ahead just like Jim wanted.

Len shouldn't have been surprised; nearly everything went ahead like Jim wanted. Women who found him charming often invited themselves into his bed. Women who found him annoying eventually came around to proclaiming him endearing. People who thought he was a fuck-up ended up throwing away those bad first impressions and making him their personal hero. And innocent folks who just wanted to be left alone to head toward their impending arranged weddings with sour outlooks on the future were made to celebrate the stupid upcoming ceremonies with a wild night of partying.

Part of the problem lay with Spock; of that Len was sure. It usually did anyway. This time Spock's occasional, "Fascinating," in reply to Jim's excited murmurs of his plans for Len's shindig definitely did nothing to dampen Jim's annoying enthusiasm. In fact, Len was pretty sure Spock's keen interest made the festivities take on a larger life than they otherwise would have. Though Spock of course didn't drink himself, and no doubt wouldn't deign to give credits to some Orion dancer or chat up a cutie Betazoid hostess, he seemed to feel some degree of the anticipation Jim was displaying for some crazy reason.

It burned Len to see them both his friends so invested because, hell, it wasn't like this was something to be _celebrated_ , his so-called marriage to Chekov, or marked in a way that emphasized his life was going to be utterly different afterwards. He was doing a favor for a friend -- after which they were all going to pretend that it had never happened, at least if Len had anything to say about it. Then Chekov could go on and do what he liked and Leonard could go back to his own miserable excuse for a life. 

If Len had his way, he would have ignored the situation as much as possible until the actual event. He would be fine if he could just go through the ceremony with his shoulders squared and his head down, and then slip away as soon as he could be sure no one would notice his absence. After the dust settled, Chekov could turn his attention to his royal duties or get back to his work aboard the Enterprise, and above all find some guy he truly liked who would actually make him happy. And Leonard would only have to confront the weirdness of their situation twice a year, since he'd already promised Sulu and Uhura that he'd accompany Chekov to those damn future Regalian festivals to keep up appearances.

But it was hard to deny the encroaching approach of his, god help him, _second marriage_ , when James T. Kirk was pushing Leonard unceremoniously into a Rec Room that was filled with crew members waiting to give him what they thought was his one last hurrah before the big wedding.

"So I figured we should just get a whole range," Jim explained as three different dancers made enticing moves in Leonard's general direction from the far corners of the rec room. Len figured Jim had shoved pictures of him in their faces beforehand so they would recognize him when they saw him. No way were a pretty looking bunch like that just going to give him come-hither looks at first sight otherwise. 

At one corner, a stunning male Orion dancer flashed a dazzling grin at Len. A moment later he went back to charming a small group including Ensign T'or'kche and Nurse Edwards, both of whom were looking a little like they wanted to go, "aww, shucks," and toe the ground like plebes. At the opposite corner, a fairly menacing gorgeous Andorian woman leered at Len while she moved through a routine that seemed to suggest that anyone who tried to sneak a grope would get their arm fractured in three places. Unsurprisingly for this ship of masochists, the largest crowd was gathered around her. And in the corner between them, an exquisite androgynous Necolaritu sat, apparently on a break. After shooting Len a coy look, zie resumed entertaining an audience of admirers who were plying zir with food and drink and leaning in to catch some of the scintillating wit that species was so well-known for.

Despite their roles as a trio of stag night dancers, all three performers were dressed modestly, and none of them were striking overly salacious poses. Len figured that had to do with Starfleet regulations governing events held aboard ship. The brass probably wouldn't much like it if those aboard the Enterprise were to have a seriously anything-goes shindig, bachelor party or no. Besides, Yeoman Rand had probably kept Jim in line, citing specific regulations if he'd so much as contemplated something a shade more untoward. Leonard imagined the dancers had probably all signed PADD documents stating they were performing under the condition that no one expected anything of them other than some hands-off entertainment to keep it all on the up-and-up. 

He wouldn't put it past Jim to have submitted expenses for the thing as a Xenocultural Diversity Celebration or some such nonsense. It wasn't like anyone on the crew was going to argue when they were all clearly here for a bit of harmless fun. Len supposed that what the admirals didn't find out about the specifics wouldn't hurt them. 

"The whole range, huh? Great," Len replied heavily as Jim tried to steer him to what seemed like the table of honor based on the ridiculously garish decorations tied to the chairs. "Chekov already leave?" he asked casually, not letting Jim tug him along all the way just yet. He'd scanned the room as he entered and hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, but maybe he was planning on swinging by later. 

Or maybe Chekov was avoiding Len altogether, finally feeling embarrassed at the way the two of them had locked lips in front of a group of Regalians he was kind of in charge of now. Or maybe the way Len had told him he hadn't even thought to invite his daughter into this confusing situation had been the last straw for the kid. Damn it, he'd meant to make it _easier_ on Chekov, so that he didn't feel obliged to take on any responsibilities as a step-parent, for Christ's sake. But the way Chekov had left the day before, and the way Jim and the rest had reacted, well. Maybe it was yet another example of Leonard screwing up. Great, he thought bitterly. Not even day one into this second marriage of his, and he was already a failure at being even an okay husband. 

Some combination of the last two snags seemed the most plausible, Len thought grimly. After what had occurred two nights ago, no doubt Chekov was hoping Leonard wouldn't have any expectations for how physical they were actually going to get post-ceremony. And he'd also probably decided that Len was as rude as hell for the way he'd handled Chekov's courteous questions about whether Len wanted to invite his kid. Len just sent up a prayer to whoever might be listening that Chekov decided avoidance would be the way to handle both situations. Because god almighty, it would be awkward for both of them if Chekov tried to let Len down easy, or let on that he thought Len was an enormous oaf with no regard for anyone's feelings who probably should see his daughter even less than he already did. 

"Chekov? Uh. No?" Jim looked confused. "This is your night, Bones! Plus I'm pretty sure he's having his own thing with Sulu and Uhura, a couple of the Regalians he asked for courtesy's sake, and more people from our crew over in Rec Room 3."

"Now, how the hell did I not notice a big crowd in Rec Room 3?" Len asked skeptically. He'd passed the other area on his way to Jim's brouhaha, and hadn't heard a peep from it. 

"He's having it later. Or possibly he's having it somewhere else. Uh. I don't remember all the details because Sulu was in charge." Jim scratched his head and looked slightly abashed. "I can try to get someone to find out what's up if you need to talk to him or --"

"No," Len snapped at him. "No," he repeated a moment later, trying for casual. "Just curious." There was no point in getting bent out of shape over missing an opportunity to talk things through with Chekov. Probably the fewer chances he and Chekov had to hash through the uncomfortable details of all this, the better. 

Jim looked worried for a moment before he pasted on a cheerful expression. "Okay then. So back to making this night one you'll always remember! What can I get you to drink?" He rubbed his hands together in a show of enthusiasm. 

Len nearly bit out that obviously it would have to be something way inferior to the quality stuff he kept stashed in his office. But then he took another look at Jim's hopeful expression and sighed. The kid really did look like he was making an effort for Len's sake, not just trying to use the situation as an excuse to throw a wild party for himself. 

"Bourbon with a drop of water," Len said shortly. 

"Awesome! Don't go anywhere; I'll be right back with that for you." Jim began to hustle his way over to the bar, slapping partygoers on the back on the way and smiling at everyone who complimented him on the spread and the festivities. 

Len soon found himself sitting alone. No surprise there. As the time of the wedding drew closer and closer and he got more and more cranky, his own staff down in sickbay had been avoiding him and stepping gingerly. Now, with all the dancers with their crowds of guests positioned at the corners of the room and the rest of invitees hovering near the tables with food piled on them, Len felt like he had the whole raucous party in wary orbit around his surly little deserted island of a table. 

It wasn't the worst thing ever, he supposed, even if it did feel a little isolated. He'd barely had a moment to himself since volunteering to get hitched to Chekov. So by all rights he ought to welcome some time on his own. But somehow it felt pathetic, sitting there slumped, no drink in hand yet because Jim had gotten caught up with the crowd, by himself in a sulk while everyone else dove into the spirit of revelry. 

So it was with a weird kind of relief that Leonard greeted Spock when the Vulcan slipped into the seat next to his a short while later. In addition to saving Leonard from looking like a fool sitting all by himself, Spock was already making himself useful in other ways: he seemed to have appropriated Leonard's drink from Jim, who had once again been waylaid to chat with a group of partygoers. Len took it gratefully, slinging back a fortifying gulp while Spock carefully arranged his own drink (water, of course, because Spock was just that fun), on one of the table's stupid festive party coasters.

"Doctor," Spock said gravely, as if a group of Lieutenants behind him weren't laughing uproariously at a filthy joke they'd probably heard from Len in the first place. 

"Commander Hobgoblin," Len said morosely. 

Spock sipped at his water, eyes trained intently on Len. "I believe the purpose of such a gathering is for the guest of honor to enjoy himself greatly," Spock observed after a few moments had passed.

"That'd be the goal, sure."

"And yet you do not look as though you are appreciating the function Jim has so painstakingly arranged for you," Spock continued.

"Look, I showed up, all right?" Len rubbed at his face with his hand. "This isn't exactly a normal wedding, obviously, so you're not going to come across the same kind of stag night celebration you'd see otherwise."

"I find the designation normal to be both imprecise and misleading," Spock noted.

"You would," Len snorted.

"For instance, on Vulcan, it is considered 'normal' for children to be betrothed when they are between the ages of seven and ten," Spock said serenely, apparently not noticing when Leonard choked on his bourbon. "That practice would be regarded as most strange on Earth." 

"Seven and -- good god, man, are you trying to tell me you've been engaged since before you so much as hit double digits?"

Spock tilted his head as if Len was a curious specimen of fungus. "Indeed. Though in point of fact, I am no longer so betrothed. My intended perished during the destruction of Vulcan, as of course did many others."

"Right," Len said slowly. "I'm real sorry about that, Spock," he said a moment later, when he could force the words out past the overwhelming sense that he was a no-good heel not to have seen that one coming. 

"Our union would not have been a happy one had we been able to proceed with our final bonding, though the match would have fulfilled needs in the most critical of ways, necessary for the well-being of all Vulcans."

"You would have had a kid or two together, helped keep up the little pointy eared toddler population," Len guessed. 

"Among other things," Spock allowed, and the response was so uncharacteristically imprecise that Leonard narrowed his eyes. "Yet my purpose in mentioning this tradition was not to inform you of an element in order to illustrate a broader theme from the history of my relationships --"

"Thank god for that."

"-- but instead to provide a point of contrast to the dynamic existing between you and Ensign Chekov."

Len scoffed. "Yeah, I think I noticed we haven't been waiting to get hitched since we were seven. Wait, how old was I when Chekov was seven?" He manfully resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands as his brain did that bit of awkward math far too quickly and instead calmly folded his arms before him on the table. "But okay, I know you don't like saying the obvious without one of us inviting. So I'll bite. How's that, Spock?"

"Though bonding young Vulcan children provides insurance against other sorts of problems, to encounter circumstances requiring an individual to bond at a later age may have its advantages."

"We didn't have to become bonded for some kind of survival of the species duty," Len protested. They were no Vulcans, enacting bonds dictated by their culture's needs! 

But a moment later, Len stopped himself and heaved a sigh. Could be the one drink was already affecting his judgment. Maybe the two of them couldn't have kids, but they were sort of saving the planet's wellbeing by going through with the marriage. Chekov had needed a spouse pronto to keep Regalian society from self-imploding; Len had bounded into the fray in part for the same reason. Yeah, okay, so in their own way they pretty much had behaved like obedient little Vulcanoids. "Go on." 

Spock leaned forward slightly, which for him indicated a degree of interest similar to when Jim would leap up onto Len's bed when they had been roommates back at the Academy, shouting, "Wait, wait, hold the fucking _phone_ , Bones, because what the hell did you just say?" Stupid Jim's stupid fondness of incorporating twentieth-century Terran slang into his speech while he was press-ganging Len into revealing whatever he had stalwartly been trying to keep private for at least five minutes. 

"My point, Doctor," Spock continued, "Is that though you and Chekov may not have considered yourselves close friends prior to this circumstance, you knew one another before confronting the necessity of your bond. You harbored a mutual respect for one another's training and admiration for the capable execution of your duties. You have even socialized to some extent on shore leaves, or provided support for one another in the process of various missions. Additionally, from what I witnessed during the engagement dinner the Regalians hosted, there is a strong component of mutual attraction between the two of you. In fact, I have even noted as recently as yesterday afternoon, before the unfortunate misunderstanding which I believe precipitated what Jim would categorize as your current 'bad mood', that your esteem for one another and solicitousness of each other's positions has only increased since the necessity for declaring you would form this bond."

Leonard frowned at his now nearly-empty glass and gave it a swirl in his hand before he drained the last drops of his drink. "So?" he asked hoarsely. 

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard. "Because of these points of reciprocal regard, I believe you and Ensign Chekov will make not only what Vulcans would consider a logical match but indeed, have already formed the start of what humans consider necessary for an appropriate and successful pairing: affection, respect, and other convivial elements increasing the likelihood for future happiness."

Len stared. If he'd had any drink left to sip, he would have sputtered. "Are you saying you think Chekov and I have the basis for a good marriage?"

"That is the essence of what I intended to communicate to you, yes." 

Leonard tried not to let on that he was reeling. Okay, so Spock seemed to have been observing him and Chekov and had declared they should pretty much receive the cutest couple award in the yearbook. 

A big part of him was tempted to shoot Spock's entire speech down, to tell him he had no idea what he was talking about. That this whole thing had never been about mutual regard or attraction or affection, and it didn't have a shot in hell of becoming the basis for a good marriage. That Chekov had essentially become roped into this by an accident of genetics and the kid's own eagerness to help out in a crisis, and Len had bitten off more than he could chew when he had opened his big fat mouth to volunteer himself as a last-minute bridegroom. 

But he was just feeling so damn tired. Maybe it was tonight's bad quality bourbon on top of yesterday's headache-inducing faux pas during the meeting, combining and catching up with him to make him feel so weary. Or maybe it was the dreariness of reminding people that hey, he and Chekov weren't actually going steady, and had zero chance of trying for a success story as a couple no matter how many bells and whistles the Regalians had planned for their crazy huge wedding, or how many Vulcans pronounced them a suitable match. 

So he didn't much feel like trying to argue the point with Spock, especially because he was afraid he'd admit that somewhere in the back of his mind, Spock's words had struck home with him. Mutual respect, that thrill of attraction when the chemistry between two people pinged just right, other sorts of affinity in the two of them both being the kind of idiots who thought traveling by starships to unknown planets sounded like a fine idea: it was far more than he had had with Jocelyn at the end of the day, and she had been someone he had convinced himself he was thrilled to marry. 

On paper, all those points of commonality almost made him think that he and Chekov could work together. But then the sensible part of him, the part of him that knew what kind of man he was and what sort of future Chekov actually deserved, told that stupid little hopeful flame flickering in his foolish stubborn heart to go stuff it. He was just plain tired of it all, and he hadn't the energy to deal with the side of him that still wished that maybe there would be a happily-ever-after in store.

"Appropriate and successful pairing, you said? Well, it sounds to me like you're describing another couple I know," Len said shortly. He tried to ignore that he was hauling out to play what his mother had always said was his worst shortcoming: going on the offensive when someone made him feel as though they'd caught a glance of his soft white vulnerable underbelly. 

"Is that so?" Spock asked blandly.

"Funny thing, but yeah. Two guys I know with a hell of a lot of mutual respect, great compatibility as a team, terrific at supporting each other when the going gets tough, and as for attraction and affection, I tell you, they just about beat anyone else in the running."

"Fascinating," Spock commented. "I assume you intend to tell me why you are informing me of this other highly well-suited couple?"

"Oh, I wouldn't have to tell you a thing about them, if you'd only look at what's right in front of your Vulcan nose."

Spock's lips twitched forward just the slightest bit in what Leonard thought could well be the keenest expression of interest he had ever witnessed the Enterprise's First Officer make. "I do not understand," he said slowly.

"Bones," Jim exclaimed, placing a fresh glass of bourbon in front of him while gesturing with the new glass of water he was clutching for Spock. "Sorry I got held up! Spock," he added, giving the Vulcan a soft smile while he let the hand gripping the water rest briefly on Spock's shoulder.

Under the guise of reaching across his chest to grab for the beverage, Spock's fingers brushed Jim's. He looked up at their captain with that ridiculously intense gaze of his. For a moment the two of them were caught in a moment all their own, their eyes meeting as though there was no one at all in the room aside from the two of them. Oh, never mind _that_ severe understatement: they gazed at one another exactly as if there was no one else in the entire galaxy but Jim and Spock. 

"Yup," Leonard said, taking a slug of the bourbon and setting the glass down with a clink audible even amid the murmurs and party sounds. "Right in front of your Vulcan nose," he said meaningfully to Spock.

Spock broke his stare with Jim. His eyes shot to Leonard. For a moment Len swore he could see the eensiest glimpse of that vulnerable side of Spock that probably only Jim and maybe Uhura had ever seen. It was all in those dark eyes: if a man looked closely, Spock looked startled, even hunted, all because he had been caught giving the tiniest indication of some kind of heavy emotion.

"Huh?" Jim asked. He'd let his hand relax and continue to rest on Spock's shoulder even after Spock had carefully moved the glass of water to the table. "What are you guys talking about?"

Spock took a breath. Those who had never seen his iron control of himself wouldn't have been able to catch that the indrawn air was just this side of shaky and obviously meant to fortify his nerves. He still seemed more than a little rattled, if the whitening of his knuckles as he held the glass was a good indicator, but there was something more as he turned deliberately from Len back to Jim. Somehow he also looked more alive than Len had seen him in some time. 

"Well, you know what I always say," Leonard said as he rose to his feet, drink in hand, to leave them to it. "A little self-awareness is the best medicine." 

"Bones, where are you off to? What was that all about?" he heard Jim ask as Len stepped away from them. 

"It seems the doctor and I have found that we are in need of the same prescription," Spock said slowly. 

It was the last of their conversation Leonard heard as he continued to move away, before the noise and hubbub of the party swallowed any other words between them.


	8. Chapter 8

Maybe Jim had been right, Len conceded as his bachelor party continued with no signs of winding down, that this longer than anticipated break on and orbiting Regalis Prime was good for the recreation-starved crew. He certainly hadn't been to as festive a shindig as his alleged bachelor party aboard ship in some time.

It didn't much matter that he didn't feel like celebrating. At least he and Spock were in the same boat, he told himself -- and if that wouldn't be a nightmare were it to actually happen, well, then Len didn't know what would be. 

Anyway, it seemed to him that he was better off being lonely and feeling disgruntled in a festive crowd than if he decided to haul himself off to his quarters or his office to drink and sit out his fit of bad temper all alone. 

At least the party had some varied activities. There were a few drinking games -- Len didn't want to know what the hell the work conditions were like down in the Science Labs if those crewmembers were so bound and determined to drink each other literally under the tables -- and a kind of grand finale spotlight dance that saw all three of the performers shimmy on a platform near the center of the room while everyone cheered and kept on drinking. 

Eventually people began to wander out, though, some of them clapping Len on the shoulder as they departed, others giving him awkward lines about good luck and happiness and how great marriage was (fine thing for them to say, when most crew aboard generally were single or divorced).

By the end of the night as the crowd thinned, somehow Len found himself nodding along as the charming as hell Orion dancer confided in him about all his relationship problems with a Deltan woman he'd met months ago on a space station. Seemed the Deltan was afraid of commitment and didn't appreciate her long-suffering dancer boyfriend nearly enough. 

By the time they were halfway through the dancer's laundry list of grievances, Len found himself sipping on yet another bourbon someone or other had fetched him. The drinks had definitely been flowing freely even as the party wound down. Christine Chapel had long ago kicked off her boots and was leaning back in a chair, seated next to a lieutenant commander Len happened to know was sweet on her and smiling as she pressed her cold drink against her forehead. In the corner the Andorian dancer had vacated, a group of Jim's Yeomen were gathered in a conspiratorial clutch, obviously letting the alcohol loosen their lips to exchange juicy gossip about their captain, if the way they kept shooting Jim surreptitious glances and snickering meant anything. 

And their Captain himself had obviously been enjoying the party's offerings, based on how he was very nearly draped across Spock by now. He actually had one arm half-slung behind Spock's shoulders, fingers brushing carelessly across the nape of Spock's neck while he leaned in close, keeping their shoulders touching. He had that mischievous half-smile on his lips that Len knew from experience meant all sorts of trouble as he spoke in a low tone obviously meant for his First Officer alone. 

Spock looked stiff and uncomfortable enough that Leonard had actually contemplated heading over there to see if things were all right or if Spock needed a little space from Jim's alcohol-enabled evidence of interest. Even if Spock returned Jim's infatuated feelings, and Leonard was pretty damn sure at this point he did in spades, obviously Vulcans were private sorts. Even given how many people had taken off, there were still a good number who had stayed behind far too busy pretending they weren't gawking at the half of their command team looking just about ready to slide into the lap of the other half. 

But after Spock glared at various acquaintances who got too close to his table with Jim, obviously meant to prevent anyone from wandering over and joining them, and actually growled at a tipsy medical technician ensign who happened to rest her hand on Jim's chair while standing unsteadily nearby (the poor young woman had given a small shriek of alarm and stumbled away hurriedly), Len figured he'd leave them to it.

Round about the time Len figured he could slip away without anyone much minding, he saw Sulu cautiously poke his head through the doorway. Sulu took a careful look around the room and pulled a strangely relieved face when he spotted Len. 

"What the hell is it now?" Len said to himself as he got to his feet (though he didn't leave before he gave the Orion dancer an awkward pat on his shoulder and told him as long as he stopped being such an idiot it would all work out). 

"Medical emergency?" he asked Sulu as soon as he was close enough to the room's threshold. 

"Pavel emergency," Sulu answered anxiously. "He's a little -- well --"

"What's happened?" Len asked sharply. He had the urge to reach out and give Sulu a shake to make him talk faster. He kept it buttoned up, though, because he had absolutely no desire to end up flat on his back held immobile by their resident combat expert if Len caught Sulu by surprise.

"Well. I _think_ he's just drunk," Sulu said. He looked disturbed by something, maybe at knowing his friend was so regretful that he was about to have to get married for convenience's sake that he had gone and gotten himself blitzed. 

"Yeah, pretty sure that describes him and a third of the crew right now," Len said, shrugging. He told himself the unfurling of tension in his gut wasn't to do with a surge of relief at hearing that Chekov was probably more or less okay. It was just that now Leonard wouldn't have to launch into some kind of critical medical treatment at this time of ship's night. 

"Yeah, but he's kind of worked up, and -- I know there isn't really a make-drunkenness-begone hypo, but. Is there anything --"

"If he wants to purge it up," Len said, and rolled his eyes at Sulu's grossed-out grimace.

"Ugh, no. I just wondered -- maybe if you talked to him?" Sulu gestured vaguely behind him to indicate Leonard should follow him elsewhere. "I've never seen Pasha really drunk before. I didn't even notice him drinking much at all tonight, actually, but I think maybe he's upset about something."

"Gee, I wonder why that might be?" Len rolled his eyes. "And if you haven't seen him drunk yet, you didn't catch him after the engagement party. I think we all had a little too much that particular night." He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the memories his own words had stirred: the faint taste of the fruity drinks the Regalians had served still fragrant in Chekov's pliant mouth, the way Chekov had leaned into him and made those quiet enticing sounds. The kid had definitely overindulged if he'd acted like he was practically in a swoon just from kissing Leonard McCoy. 

Sulu made a dismissive sound. "Hate to break it to you if you were the one who couldn't hold his liquor, but Pavel wasn't the least bit drunk that night. I saw him right after he beamed up, and he was totally fine. Seriously, it takes a lot to get Pasha even close to hammered; that's what's so weird about tonight. Usually it's like he's got some kind of genetic hyper-tolerance to the sauce." For a moment Sulu looked thoughtful. "Or maybe he just trained himself on super strong vodka when he was younger." 

"Well, he was sure as hell drunk when I was sitting at that table next to him," Len shot back. 

When Sulu continued to look skeptical, Leonard paused, hearing his own words play back in his head. _Had_ Chekov been under the influence of alcohol the night of the party? Len had just assumed that was the case. But if it really wasn't the drink that made Chekov behave the way he had toward Leonard, then maybe this whole thing Leonard barely wanted to acknowledge he was developing for Chekov wasn't completely one-sided. And if it wasn't completely one-sided, then maybe there really was at least a small spark that could turn into something more between the two of them -- 

But no, it was too ridiculous an idea to countenance for even a second.

"Anyway, I thought the two of you were supposed to be besties for life," Len scoffed. "How come you can't be the one to have the heart-to-heart with Chekov?"

"Well, hey, crazy as it is, I thought that since you're marrying the guy, maybe you could get used to the fact that you're going to have to be there for him when things go wrong," Sulu said harshly.

"Ah, Christ." Len took a deep breath and told himself he didn't want to have it out with Sulu right now. If Chekov hadn't kept his best friend up to date that this marriage was definitely still only one of convenience, Leonard didn't want to be the one to have to explain it. Besides, if it truly was unusual for Chekov to be drunk and he was off kilter now, no doubt it was because he was unhappy facing the reality of having to marry Leonard the following day. There was no reason to open that can of worms with Sulu, never mind explain to one of Chekov's best allies that it didn't _matter_ if Len learned to be there for Chekov or Chekov for him, because this wasn't going to turn out anything like a real marriage between two people who wanted to be together. 

"Okay, fine. Where is he?" he asked, scowling. 

*****

They got off the turbolift at the appropriate deck. After a short walk down the hall Sulu keyed in the security code to Chekov's quarters and waved Len through. Inside, the room was almost entirely dark, but they could easily hear the shuffling sounds of someone who seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to heave himself off of the floor. 

Leonard took another step inside, heard a groan that sounded way too alluring to certain parts of him, and froze. So of course Sulu turned tail and ran. "Good luck," the big coward called to Leonard over his shoulder before the quarter's doors slid fully shut after him. 

Again there came the sound of someone trying to haul himself to his feet and stumbling back down to the deck again. _Yo moyo_ , Len heard Chekov mutter under his breath.

"Hey, you okay, kid?" Len asked gruffly. He guessed Chekov must have really tied one on at his own bachelor party. Whether Sulu was right or wrong about Chekov typically holding his alcohol well, Leonard knew at least that Chekov hadn't been anywhere near this stage of fall-down drunk the other night. More like giddy and flirty and so appealing that Leonard had wanted to take him back to his quarters and -- damn it all, he couldn't let himself think about that sort of thing any longer!

There was another string of Russian words, sounding cranky as all get out. All at once Chekov's lights went up to standard daylight setting. Len winced and shielded his eyes until they could adjust. Sure, he hadn't had more drink than he could handle, but that didn't mean he was ready for high noon conditions at the moment either. 

"It is you," Chekov said sadly from his position in a heap on the floor. He had a blanket draped around his shoulders, probably flung around him by Sulu before he'd gone to fetch Len. As he emerged from shrugging it partially away Len could see his curly hair had gotten a little frizzy and disheveled. 

"It's me all right," Len agreed, coming a bit closer. The only reason he gentled his voice was because he wanted to deal with whatever nonsense had brought this on as quickly as possible, he told himself, not because he was way too sweet on the kid or something. "You need anything?" he felt compelled to add when Chekov just clutched the fuzzy blanket and stared at Len with his big pretty eyes. 

"I looked for you earlier, but I could not locate you," Chekov said after a long pause, slumping back against the wall next to his bed. "You are here to join me now?"

With a grunt, Leonard hefted Chekov up so that he could get seated on the actual bed instead of slumped on the floor. He wasn't exactly heavy, but he had gone all boneless with the drink, and moving him was like trying to shift a stubborn cat. It sure didn't help the situation that the bourbon Len had in his belly sloshed unpleasantly as he lifted and tugged to get Chekov in a secure position. 

"Well, as it happens, I was at a party under duress. So I probably would have been just as glad for you to find me and get me the hell out of there," Len admitted. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he just ought to tell Chekov to follow him along to sickbay and help him out there. At least it would be a public place, and there wouldn't be any strangeness. It didn't seem entirely right to Len, feeling like he was in a weirdly intimate situation with someone he was way too drawn to, never mind that person being compromised by a substance he'd ingested. 

But the kid was looking at him so encouragingly, like this was the perfect little meeting place for their sorry club of two, that he sighed and gingerly seated himself on the mattress an appropriate distance away from the ensign. 

"Oh?" And now Chekov looked so hopeful that Len felt something seize in his chest. "You would have been glad to see me?" For all that he was two sheets to the wind, he looked -- Len didn't know any other word to describe it but _lovely_. There was an appealing flush high in his cheeks. The rest of his skin, despite a faint sheen of sweat, looked creamy and soft. The civvies he was wearing, a stylish pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, made him look polished despite their rumpled state, giving him the air of a real adult rather than the teenager Len always thought of him as. "It is, I think, good news," Chekov added shyly. 

"Good news?" Len prompted. His own voice sounded gravelly to him. "That's why you wanted to find me?"

As Chekov looked up at him, the sight of the faint smile on his lips firing the fumes of alcohol in Leonard's system to flare up and flush along his skin, a jarring thought suddenly occurred to Len: what if the good news making Chekov so damn hopeful was because he'd found a way out of marrying him? 

"To find you," Chekov repeated, his eyes falling for a moment as he fiddled with the edges of the blanket. Then Chekov glanced up at Len, his own eyes widening as he met his gaze. And that's when Leonard McCoy's heart seized and thumped fit to beat right out of his ribcage. 

"Ah, hell," Len muttered to himself. He hadn't even realized the full extent of this disaster, self-absorbed idiot that he was. Hadn't even looked at what was right in front of his own nose; it was a fine thing, as it turned out, that he'd thought he'd had any ground to stand on when he'd lectured Spock about self-awareness. 

But now that he finally knew what the devil was going on in his heart, it seemed like the wedding coming up so fast was even worse of an idea than he could ever have imagined it before. Lord knew what had happened the last time Len had married someone he'd fallen desperately in love with. Nothing good, that's what. 

And here maybe Chekov was about to tell him how they could get out of this fix they were in, just at the moment Leonard least wanted to be free of it. The more Len thought about it, the more sense it made. He and Chekov hadn't exactly parted under the best of terms the last time they'd spoken. Hell, they'd practically staged a big old break-up scene in front of their colleagues at the damn wedding planning meeting. As far as Leonard knew, Chekov was still angry at him. Add to that the fact that Chekov seemed pretty damned offended that Len hadn't wanted to involve his daughter in this wedding nonsense, as well as the high probability that Chekov had been talking to sympathetic Regalians about his surly fiancé. He doubtless wanted to be quit of it as soon as possible, and Len figured there was more than a big chance he was going to get the heave-ho from an engagement he'd never thought he wanted to be in until a few moments ago. 

He tried to get a hold of himself, gripping the side of Chekov's narrow bed and taking a few deep breaths. Could be he was jumping the gun, he thought vaguely as he searched Chekov's face for a clue as to what was going to happen next. He tried to think through the haze of bourbon still in his system. He hadn't come across even an inkling about a change like that to the wedding plans, sure. But lord knew the news that Chekov was a prince of an entire planet and that Leonard was going to marry him had come about pretty quickly as well. It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that the Regalians -- who no doubt weren't too thrilled about a loutish country doctor like Len being on the princely ticket they had inherited -- had figured out a loophole to let Chekov find a more suitable spouse. Or it could well have been that some cultural expert on board the Enterprise still studying that stack of Regalian parchments, or some Federation representative who knew all sorts of sneaky buried bylaws, had figured out a way for Chekov to avoid tying the knot with Leonard. 

His hands tightened as he drew his fists onto his lap. Distantly he could feel the tips of his fingernails leaving half-moon marks on his palms that smarted. Whatever would come with Chekov's announcement, he would deal with it alone and keep the kid unaware of any of the emotional baloney Len felt seizing his chest. He'd always done just fine on his own with managing any kinds of feelings he wasn't supposed to have, he thought grimly. Besides, he would be grateful as hell, obviously, if it turned out neither of them had to go through with this farce of a wedding! Especially if he was actually fool enough to have gone and fallen for the kid. It would sure as hell be torture, having to marry someone who thought they were acting out a friendly bargain for the sake of diplomatic relations, if he himself was hopelessly infatuated with absolutely no chance of having his feelings returned. 

But…was it so bad in Chekov's mind, having to be married to Len? Was it so impossible to bear for him, when the wedding and its aftermath didn't even mean much in the first place, that he had scrambled to figure out a way around it? It gave Len a gnawing sense of unease to think of it. If he'd missed out on his own feelings, it could well be he'd completely ignored the signs that Chekov was not just feeling awkward about the situation but pretty unhappy as well. Maybe things had been awful for Chekov all this time, while Len had been grousing, ducking Jim's suggestions and Sulu's centerpiece questions and Uhura's disapproving looks, to know he'd have to find himself saddled to one Doctor Leonard McCoy. Though obviously Len knew his offer had come at a desperate time, maybe things had changed since then, and Chekov was just filled with relief that he could finally make another choice. 

"Well, what is it?" Len asked finally when Chekov seemed disinclined to keep talking about whatever it was he wanted to tell him. He'd meant it to sound a little harsh. If he was going to get dumped by a recently-made-royal teenager the night before their arranged compelled wedding, he'd rather get it over with as quickly as possible. But it only came out wary with an edge of tenderness that made him want to groan and hide his foolish face in his hands. 

"Yes, well." Chekov swallowed and slid slightly closer to Len. "I had hoped to find you, because I wanted --"

"Out with it," Len said, impatient.

"I --" Chekov blinked those sea green eyes at him slowly. Then Chekov let his head fall against Len's shoulder, letting out a sigh like this was exactly where he had wanted to be all night long. 

Maybe it had been that unexpected and involuntary counseling of the lovesick Orion dancer that had left Leonard a little soft, or maybe it was too much drink in him making him extra amenable. But instead of easing away or telling Chekov that he obviously needed some sleep but quick, Len found himself gently reaching his arm around Pavel to secure him at his side. When he hesitantly smoothed those curls back from his forehead, Chekov's whole body seemed to melt against his with contentment. 

"This is wery nice," Chekov said sleepily. "Being here with you." One of his hands crept up to curl against Leonard's chest, clutching the fabric there. 

"Sure it is," Leonard said under his breath. He couldn't deny that part of him wished that this moment meant what he wanted it to in his heart of hearts. If he was watching a scene set up like the two of them were at this moment on a holovid, he knew it would look exactly like one of those romantic moments made for revelations, when all sorts of possibilities open up and futures unfurl like expanding horizons that had always just been right around the corner. 

But no, Len told himself sternly. This wasn't about a real future with him and Chekov. This was an ensign who had had imbibed a little too much, nothing more. And Leonard was merely a convenient shoulder, if not to cry on, then obviously to snuggle on.

"Look," he began a moment later. He wasn't sure what to follow all of this up with, whether he wanted to make Chekov confirm how very little anything between them meant, or whether he meant to act the part of a fool and ask him if maybe, just maybe, it didn't mean just a little bit after all. But it didn't matter how much courage Leonard had either way, to put the whole matter to bed by confirming this was merely a convenient arrangement, or risk it all by showing the kid and admitting to himself that he had more invested in this crazy situation than he had ever intended. Because the hand clutching his shirt went a little lax, fingertips brushing against his collarbone limply, and the soft regular exhalation he heard against his chest made him realize that Chekov had fallen asleep against him. 

Leonard moved slightly to let Chekov's cheek rest more comfortably against his chest. So okay, whatever Chekov had to say wouldn't get sorted out until he was awake. Len wasn't such a heartless bastard that he would shake the poor guy into consciousness just to make him blurt out whatever it was. Particularly not before the big day ahead of them they faced tomorrow. 

Sure, that was it, he thought half hysterically. It wasn't at all that maybe he wanted to steal a few more moments with Chekov sleeping next to him like they really were a couple caught in a romantic moment. He figured he was already a jackass for a whole bunch of things to do with Pavel lately. Might as well keep right on being an idiot and snatch at this temporary illusion of pleasure. What could it hurt? He'd let it go on just for a little while longer, and before Chekov woke up and possibly told him it was all for nothing, they could embrace like two people who were truly in love.

And really, if all this seeking-out business from earlier was Chekov looking to let Len know that he'd found a way out of this whole marriage rigmarole, even if Len had thought he'd wanted to hear the news quick, like an old-fashioned adhesive band-aid ripped away cleanly instead of eased off bit by bit, he was man enough to admit a good part of him didn't want to hear the news at all. So if it had to wait until tomorrow morning, well. It would be one more night of not forcing himself to face up to the fact that that this man he hadn't even known he wanted would never truly be his. 

"Suppose there are worse ways to spend the night before a wedding," Len murmured as Chekov shifted in his grasp to drape his arm easily over Len's side like it belonged there. And if he dropped a quick kiss into Chekov's curls, well, hell. It wasn't like there was anyone else there to see.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning brings an unwelcome revelation, though not anything like the one Len had worried about.

At first the crick in his neck was what Len assumed woke him up. Must have really tied one on last night, he thought at he winced. He hadn't fallen asleep on the floor in years, and the idea that too much bourbon at that bachelor party had driven him to it left him feeling grumpy. 

But hey, he hadn't _fallen_ asleep on the floor, he realized through the fog of grogginess. He sure was there now, though, and he wasn't alone. Somehow, with Chekov slumped against him and obviously holding tight despite being dead to the world, they'd rolled off the bed together, still entwined even after hitting the deck. Len tightened his embrace to check, purely for scientific purposes, not in any way because Chekov had kept right on snuggling up against Leonard's chest through their slight change in scenery and he wanted to make sure he was comfortable. 

"Hey," he said gently. Before he knew what he was about, he realized he was stroking up and down Chekov's arm over the shirt he wore in a manner that couldn't be mistaken for anything but a fond caress. The motion somehow brought back Leonard to the train of morose thoughts that had barreled through him last night. Obviously he would have done better to stuff those miserable broodings down deep inside where he'd never have to examine them as closely. But no, he'd hauled them out for inspection, and the exposure had only made the feelings keener -- if the way he was _still_ rubbing Chekov's arm affectionately, an up-and-down slow stroke interspersed with squeezes -- was any indication. 

Well, all of it just brought home the fact that Leonard admittedly had maybe one bourbon too many at that ridiculous party Jim had thrown. He'd keep an eye on himself in the future, particularly since he'd once again be a married man in a few hours. Now he didn't just have himself to worry about; he'd have to try not to do anything that would embarrass the hell out of either of them, particularly because Chekov was pretty much the shining monarchical beacon of light to an all-too-enthusiastic populace. 

For now, he forced himself to lie still -- it wasn't like he wanted to make Chekov freaked out or worried if he found Len petting him when he regained consciousness and realized how silly he had been to snuggle against Len in the first place -- and said in a slightly louder voice, "Hey, Chekov! I should probably get back to my own room, okay?"

There was no response.

"Both of us need our sleep, you figure," Leonard said, half to himself. "Probably still a few hours left in the night to catch a wink or two. What do you say? After all, it's a big day tomorrow. Getting married and all." He could feel his throat start to close up a bit at saying the words aloud, so he forced himself to inhale and exhale slowly several times before he tried again. "Chekov, you awake?"

But again there was no reply.

"Hey," Len said again, this time with concern even he could hear threaded through the words. "Pavel?" He took Chekov's limp hand from its resting place on his stomach in his own hands and startled. It was icy cold, like he had been chilled to the bone.

"Wait, what the devil is going on?" Leonard murmured, easing Chekov off him onto the floor gently and taking a good look at the kid. Unlike the extremities -- Len would bet the ensign's feet were similarly freezing as his hands -- his face was flushed with fever. It took only one touch to tell that his skin was blazing hot, far higher in temperature than it ought to have been. The slight sheen of sweat that had made him look so appealing just an hour or so earlier had blown up into an unhealthy patina now. He cupped Chekov's neck to tilt his chin up, automatically checking glands and feeling the texture of his skin. Chekov restlessly turned his head from side to side as Len moved his hand and lowered his head carefully to the floor. He muttered something under his breath, but clearly he wasn't fully conscious. 

"Pavel," Leonard said urgently. "Damn it all, can you hear me? What the hell did they give you to drink at that party? Did you eat anything weird or funny tasting?"

Chekov's eyes didn't open, but his fingers tightened slightly around Leonard's seeking hands, not hard enough to count as a clutch, but obviously trying to reach out like he was grabbing them for some kind of lifeline. 

"Oh, hell," Leonard breathed out. He checked Pavel's pulse, forcing himself to focus. It was rapid and increasingly unsteady. "Fucking hell, darlin', say something, would you?" 

Chekov let out a pained whimper, and that was enough to spur Leonard into action. 

"I don't know what happened," he said to himself, doing a quick timing against Chekov's pulse points again to get the exact number before checking his eyes as gently as possible. "But no way is this something as simple as being drunk." He wasted no more time, lifting Chekov upright as carefully as he could and sweeping him into his arms while making sure to cradle his lolling head. "Computer," he barked out. "Connect me to sickbay." 

"M'Benga here," he heard the reply as soon as the connection had been made. "Doctor McCoy, is that you?"

"Expect a patient for emergency testing stat! I want hypos at the ready with Tri-Ox, Inaprovaline, and Cordrazine just in case and an orderly on hand to help. And call Chapel, see if she's in the proper state for an assist to the both of us; I want the best people we have on this."

"Will do. M'Benga out," he heard M'Benga answer distantly as he rushed to the door. 

He pulled Pavel closer to him and charged out into the corridor. He'd be all right, he'd be fine, he'd be perfect if Leonard had anything to say about it-- Leonard swore as he dodged a surprised looking yeoman and tried to keep his brain focused on getting Chekov to the instruments and compounds that could help him as quickly as possible. 

Maybe he and Chekov would never get a shot at the kind of happy-ever-after that Leonard now knew he stupidly wanted with all his heart. But he'd be damned if he was going to let Chekov's young life and shot at happiness be placed in any sort of jeopardy. Without thinking, he gathered Pavel even closer to his chest. If he'd thought being around Chekov and being in love with him with no hope of having his feelings returned was torture, he suspected the idea of a future without Pavel Chekov in it at all might just about break him.

*****

He used his medical override on the turbolift, setting them in motion without a moment to spare. 

"Just hang on, sweetheart," he murmured as Chekov shifted in his arms and made a pained sound. He hardly knew what he was saying, just wanted to do anything he could to ease Pavel's distress. "You're going to be okay, you hear me? Everything is going to be okay. I'll take care of you; I'll always take care of you no matter what."

As soon as the lift door opened he took off at a run to reach sickbay.

"Oh no, Pavel! What happened?" one of the orderlies blurted when he saw who Leonard held in his arms. 

Len thought he recognized him as one of the friendly young ensigns that buzzed around Pavel like moths in the rec rooms on the Enterprise. Well, now wasn't the time for socializing. 

"Get to your station and pay attention," Leonard snapped at him. "We're going to need more cooling cloths than you've got out here in a second."

His stiff, "Yes, Doctor," was lost as M'Benga darted to Leonard's side, a full complement of hypos at the ready on a nearby tray, face grim as he looked over Chekov and no doubt made his own catalogue of the worrying symptoms. M'Benga efficiently took a quick blood sample without disturbing Chekov in Len's arms even before they could reach one of the beds.

"Geoff, can you tell me, is Christine in any shape to help out?" Leonard asked even as he was already in the process of laying Chekov down gently on the nearest biobed. M'Benga had begun scanning Chekov before he was fully reclined and didn't look up immediately, obviously absorbed in his task. 

The orderly reached out to help straighten Chekov's legs. But Leonard jabbed a finger in the direction of the medical supplies cabinet, sending the orderly scurrying. He waited impatiently for M'Benga's readings and arranged Chekov's legs himself, smoothing out the wrinkles in those rumpled fashionable jeans he still wore. "I know when I left she was still at that party --"

When his scanner beeped with the results, M'Benga met Len's eyes calmly. "I've already contacted her, and she's confirmed she's fine to help out. She'll be here in a moment." 

"Right, good. Now I want to see those readings." Leonard started unbuttoning Pavel's shirt so they could change him into something easier to work around, not bothering to wait for the orderly to take care of the task. "And Geoff, could you run that blood sample against the check-up Pavel had about a month and a half ago --"

M'Benga silently showed Leonard the graph charting the readings he'd already run with the past results of Chekov's levels. 

"So you knew I was bringing Chekov when I comm'ed in?" he asked, searching the other man's face for a moment before he shifted his attention to the results.

"You contacted sickbay from his quarters," M'Benga said reasonably. "And given how worried you sounded, Len, I couldn't imagine who else it might be --"

"Yeah, okay," Leonard cut him off gruffly. "Thanks for that," he murmured as he looked over the results more closely. 

"I'm here, Doctors," Chapel called out, fastening one last closure on her uniform as she hurried to the biobed they stood around.

"Here, we seem to be looking at another spike in adrenaline," M'Benga noted quietly. "I don't like seeing those high levels go up any more."

"This will help stabilize him temporarily," Chapel said briskly, already fetching an appropriate hypo from the tray M'Benga had already assembled. With Len's shaky nod giving her the necessary approval, she administered it proficiently before tracking the rate of Chekov's inhalations and exhalations with a steady hand. 

For a moment the three of them watched Chekov struggle to breathe. 

"Did you catch the evidence of Topaline?" Len asked with a frown. His eye had paused over the anomaly as he scanned the data M'Benga displayed for him. Part of him thought he might have imagined it showing in the list detailing the makeup of Chekov's blood, as distracted as he was. His attention certainly felt torn in two, wanting to look more closely at the comparison to make certain himself of the differences in levels, but not wanting to move even an inch away from Pavel's side. "Seems strange -- I know we're visiting a planet with a ton of it lying around. But even someone dirtside as frequently as Chekov has been this past week shouldn't show so much as trace amounts on their system. Maybe a miner working overtime around the stores of it for twenty plus years would have a discernible level, sure, but --"

"The Topaline register does seem odd," M'Benga agreed. "We need a more precise way to estimate the full extent of its presence in the bloodstream, I think, before we can gauge whether it's a factor in what's going on or even draw any conclusions about how it might have entered it in the first place."

"Doctor," Christine said urgently a moment after Chekov gasped.

All at once Chekov began to breathe more evenly instead of panting for air. It wasn't a cure, only something to buy them a little time, but Leonard felt an enormous wave of relief wash over him all the same. Christ, but he was grateful for Geoff's calm capabilities and Christine's composed actions. 

"Thank you, Nurse Chapel, Doctor M'Benga," he murmured, too distracted by Pavel's restless small movements to notice the two of them exchanging a look. "What I want to know is exactly what the hell could have caused this?" He took Chekov's now clammy hand in both of his own, hardly realizing what he was doing as he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Maybe it's something to do with that Topaline, but I want us to look into all the possibilities while we're figuring out a way to better measure that mineral in his system."

Christine helped to ease off Chekov's shirt and efficiently pulled one of the flimsy medical tunics over the ensign. Len reached out to help smooth the fabric over Pavel's torso, and Christine moved back without a murmur. As soon as the garment was properly arranged, Leonard automatically reached for Pavel's hand once more. 

"I understand he would have attended a party earlier this evening. But taking into account the critical nature of his reaction, I can't help but think this _isn't_ due to a few drinks too many," Geoff said, his expression thoughtful. "And it's hard to know what exactly he ate, but food poisoning wouldn't manifest like this. Can't be a bad reaction to anything he would normally have consumed or encountered, unless he's suddenly developed allergies we don't have on file. I suppose that could technically be possible." 

Len looked up to see that M'Benga's eyes were on the readouts of the scanners above the biobed while Christine was watching his and Chekov's joined hands with a pensive look on her face. 

Shaking off the thought that he should let go of Pavel's hand -- what the hell did something like that matter at the moment? -- Leonard forced himself to continue. "But it's more likely we're looking at --"

"Based on the data in the readout, I'd wager we're witnessing the results of some sort of recently-administered poison or newly toxic levels of something that's built-up in his system," M'Benga said evenly. 

For a moment Leonard felt the blood rush in his ears, and actually thought he might stumble or even collapse where he stood. The idea that someone could have done this to Pavel on purpose was too crazy to entertain for more than a second. 

_Everyone really likes Pasha_ , he could hear Uhura saying in his head. His orderly, who had been cowed enough by Leonard's growling to drop the cooling cloths on the tray and quickly back away was evidence enough of that. As Leonard clutched Pavel's hand tighter, he could see the young man out of the corner of his eye, hovering just out of Len's yelling range, but clearly anxious about what was happening to his friend. 

"No one who's part of the crew would have done something like this to Chekov," Christine protested.

"Though we can't say with utter certainty, it is doubtful anyone on board would have attempted such a thing," M'Benga agreed.

"But maybe someone _not_ part of the crew could have," Len said, half-aware that his voice was trembling. "Like for instance, someone on that planet Pavel's been spending way too much time on." 

"But --" Chapel began before she bit her lip. "They seemed so pleased when they found out about him, when they asked him to take on that role," she finished quietly. 

Leonard stared at them both, their intense and solemn faces fixed on his as they all obviously came to the same conclusion. "Those goddamn Regalians!" he burst out. "Christ almighty, who the hell even among that crowd would want to hurt Pavel? It's not like he took over their fool monarchy by force, or demanded they put him on that stupid throne! They practically shoved him into this situation, and now look at how they repay him for helping them out!"

On the biobed, Pavel shifted, letting out a pained sound. Leonard immediately stopped shouting and brushed those curls off his clammy forehead. "There, there, it's going to be all right," he soothed in a low voice as he bent closer. He touched Chekov's cheek with his fingertips, stroking down his arm next to try to calm him. 

M'Benga regarded him evenly, seemingly unperturbed by any of Len's incongruous actions. "Perhaps it could have been someone who had a problem with him taking the throne. He did appear there and was discovered to be their next ruler rather suddenly. Now, I don't know all the complexities of the political situation on that planet. But even if the majority of the Regalians approve of him, it is conceivable there are some hidden resentments that we wouldn't have been made aware of yet."

"Even so, I can't imagine a single being who could ever want to hurt such a sweet man." Christine looked troubled as she scanned the instruments; she had obviously already begun to re-check some of Chekov's biostats even while contributing to the conversation. 

"Unfortunately, it's always possible someone unscrupulous might take drastic measures," Geoff noted. "Particularly if they believe their actions will directly bring about their own personal gain." 

"Orsini," Leonard breathed out. "That next in line guy, the one they were going to put on the throne when they didn't know about Chekov yet. Who else would have a vested interest in hurting Chekov and making sure he didn't stay in the role they thrust on him? If Orsini was bound and determined to get on the throne, taking out Chekov the first chance he got would be his biggest priority."

"Bones," Jim called out, jogging into sickbay with Spock on his heels looking particularly grave. "M'Benga contacted me," he explained, catching his breath as he came to stand with them. "What's his situation?" 

Jim's concerned eyes flickered first to Chekov and then to Leonard, but it was M'Benga who answered. "His numbers have started to approach safe levels, but we need to do more tests on his blood, separate out what possible element or compound might have impacted him like this."

"Yeah, so we can figure out just what those no-good Regalians used to poison him," Len answered angrily. "And wouldn't you know it might just be the damn Topaline, the very resource we came to this god-forsaken planet to negotiate access to? Wouldn't that just be a fine how-do-you-do, having the store of a mineral the Federation needs so badly be the root of all this?" 

Jim's eyes widened. "The Regalians? And Topaline? Christ, Bones, I--" His shocked expression shifted to one of grim determination and he stepped over to the wall communicator. "Security? This is the captain. I need two officers here in sickbay on the double." He paced back to the rest of them. "Don't worry, Bones; I'll get to the bottom of this for you and Chekov." 

" 'ppreciate it," Len said roughly as he again took Chekov's hand in his. 

"Is he going to be -- I mean, you'll be able to fix whatever's wrong with him, won't you?" Jim asked.

Len exchanged a look with M'Benga. "He seems to be improving incrementally for now. But until we figure out for absolute certain what caused this, we don't know how this is going to play out."

"Doctor, by your leave, I would like to help by running the tests to discover the compound that sickened Ensign Chekov," Spock offered somberly. 

"Can't think of a better man to have on the case," Len said simply, meaning every word of it.

Spock inclined his head. "I am gratified you think so. Certainly, it would be the best use of our resources. That way, Captain Kirk can undertake the investigation into this matter on planet and Doctor M'Benga and Nurse Chapel can continue to oversee Ensign Chekov's immediate care. Meanwhile you yourself can provide companionship and support that will no doubt prove most helpful once we establish the ensign has begun his recovery."

"Now wait just a damn minute. Are you kidding me? I can helm this case," Leonard argued, glaring at them all. "There's absolutely nothing involved in this situation that would compromise me."

"Isn't there, Bones?" Jim asked quietly. He looked to where Leonard had entwined his fingers' with Chekov's again without realizing it, and gave Len a look full of sympathy.

"I --" He shook his head trying to clear it. When he looked down at Pavel, he could feel his focus narrow down to that one man suffering amid the chaos around him, watching for any change in his breathing, for a glimpse of those sea-green eyes, for the slightest improvement in his color. Yes, damn it, he was a doctor, one of the best in the 'fleet despite his humble beginnings. But in this case, Jim was right. Hell, there was an entire universe of stars out there, strong and steady. Yet for Len at the moment, it felt suddenly like he was watching over his entire universe falling apart right in front of him.

"Doctor M'Benga," he said gruffly. "I entrust the management of this case to you."

M'Benga gave him a solemn nod. "I'll do my utmost to ensure his health, Len."

***

A good several minutes after he sat down, Len realized that someone had fetched him a chair. It had probably been Christine. She was the one who always remembered the little things like that, taking care of visitors who were consumed with worry for their friends, while Leonard himself tended to shoo away anyone who got too close when he was trying to work. 

He'd have to be more mindful of those fretful interfering friends in the future, Leonard thought distantly. Then he scoffed, huffing out a breath at his mind's continued attempts to pretend he was less involved in this than he really was. He couldn't dupe himself anymore into thinking he only wanted to be Chekov's friend or just figured he might lend a hand by marrying him. 

Chekov's hands were warmer now that he'd had a variety of hypos and infusions to stabilize him, but not yet the body temperature they ought to be. Len still found himself rubbing over those limp fingers at regular intervals, sometimes brisk to bring heat to the digits, sometimes tenderly in an offer of comfort.

There would be time to deal with the consequences later, he told himself, when Chekov was all right again. He'd have to tell him, of course; he couldn't let the kid go through with the wedding without understanding how Len had more invested in this thing than he had ever imagined he might. Much as he didn't want to show himself for a fool, Pavel deserved to know the whole picture before anything else happened. 

For now he alternated watching Chekov's readouts and smoothing those frazzled curls back from Chekov's forehead on occasion or touching his arm. He told himself he was doing what he could to keep the barely conscious ensign calm, even as he knew in his heart he was doing it all for his own reassurance. 

M'Benga efficiently and quietly kept Leonard informed of any leads he and Spock were pursuing. A few times he even consulted with him briefly over which temporary stopgap they might try next to even out Chekov's heart rate or keep his temperature as close to normal as possible. Christine let Leonard take over blotting sweat from Chekov's forehead with a damp cloth without a word, merely helping him to refresh the cloth regularly and backing away to let him continue the task. And Jim disappeared to the Bridge as soon as he had heard Len's full theory that Orsini might be the one behind all of this, muttering something about contacting the Regalians with Uhura at his side to make certain there were absolutely no misunderstandings and promising to get to the bottom of the situation. Even the jumpy ensign whose name Leonard couldn't remember hurried to follow M'Benga's, Spock's, and Christine's directives. When he had a spare moment, he even brought Len cups of coffee made just the way he liked it without uttering a single word to disturb Len's vigil. 

Leonard had never esteemed his team more. But much of what went on around him went by in a blur. He only had eyes for Pavel, clutching his hand, attentively watching for the slightest change, and focusing with every fiber of his being on Pavel coming out of all of this all right. 

Because if Pavel came through okay, then Leonard would get to tell him how he felt after all. And maybe, just maybe, if Len was a really lucky bastard, Pavel wouldn't think Len such a fool as all that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the frying pan, into the fire -- the crew springs into action as Len and the others try to figure out who's responsible for what happened.

"He's stable," M'Benga said at last.

Leonard had never before fully appreciated how sweet those simple words could sound.

"Did we hit on a lucky guess with the treatments, or did you finally figure out what the hell is going on?" he asked gruffly as soon as he could take away the hands he had immediately pressed to his face in overwhelming relief upon hearing the news. His voice was hoarser than it had been before, probably from the way his heart had been in his throat for much of the past hour and a half.

"We were able to isolate the compound that had been administered to him, though we still do not know precisely when or how he was given such a dose," Spock commented. He stood unobtrusively behind M'Benga, but Len had the feeling he'd been there for some time without Len noticing. 

"Well, what was it?" Leonard asked sharply. He kept his voice low out of respect for Chekov, who hadn't yet regained full consciousness. 

"Topalinate, a derivative of Topaline, which of course is key in the process of a functioning life-support system. Vital to life on starships, obviously, but it can be toxic to humans if ingested in an extremely large quantity, or absorbed into the human system in a concentrate, as it would seem this version was administered. Once we determined this, we were able to take the appropriate measures which will aid in his undoubtedly full recovery from this ordeal." 

"Seems you were definitely on the right track when you noticed the Topaline presence in his bloodwork results, unfortunately," Geoff said when Spock finished. "I'm just glad it was something we figured out how to treat so quickly. Otherwise --" He shook his head. 

"So he was definitely poisoned," Leonard said grimly. 

"It would seem so, Doctor."

"It had to have come from Regalis Prime," Len said harshly. "It was someone down on that planet that poisoned Chekov, I know it."

"It is a logical conclusion, mainly due to the rarity of Topaline throughout the galaxy, abundant though it is of course on Regalis Prime," Spock admitted. "So I fear you may be right, Doctor, though to what precise end someone chose to perpetrate the crime we cannot determine until we discover the culprit of this wrongdoing."

"I think I might have some idea," Jim broke in. Len hadn't seen him enter, but he'd obviously been hovering nearby, and had evidently overheard the better part of Spock's conclusions. "Uhura and I have been trying to get some answers from the members of Parliament we were able to contact; it's still the middle of the night down there, obviously. But it seems earlier today someone broke into the Topaline warehouses on Regalis and there was a theft of a significant store of Topaline. No one knew of the crime right away because the guards were subdued and unconscious until recently."

"Would that have been about the time Chekov was last on the planet?" Christine asked.

Jim nodded. "Seems so. Whoever stole the measure of Topaline used at least part of it to poison Chekov. I pressed them to tell me what exactly had been going on as near as they could figure out. Turns out he was in a reception with all of the Parliamentarians and the usual entourage of Regalians we've come to know --"

"Including Orsini, naturally," Leonard burst out angrily. 

"No doubt the culprit present at that reception, whoever they might have been, knew of Ensign Chekov's plans to engage in the Terran tradition of bachelor party related revelry later the same night," Spock noted. "As our brief investigation because of this incident has shown, such an exposure to Topaline would initially mimic the symptoms of human drunkenness, as it seemed to in the case of Chekov's first reactions. Obviously the guilty party anticipated anyone on board the Enterprise would classify the ensign's erratic responses as the result of inebriation, thereby enabling the mineral to continue its fatal work before the true cause of the malady could be identified and counteracted." 

"Thank goodness Doctor McCoy was with Ensign Chekov, and could figure out that something was truly wrong," Christine said fervently. 

"But wait just a damn minute," Leonard broke in. "Seriously, pretty much all of the Regalians we've encountered were at that stupid reception? So it could have been any of them trying to poison Pavel!"

"It could have, but we'll figure out exactly who it was," Jim vowed. "And they'll answer for it, Bones, I can promise you that. I won't rest until we've spoken to every single Regalian who might know anything about this."

"Do we really have time for that?" Leonard asked sharply. "Until we know what happened, I don't like the idea of Chekov going anywhere near that damn planet, and I sure as hell don't want any of those Regalians coming anywhere near us."

"Bones, I know you're upset, but we're on this," Jim assured him. "I really don't think it was a unilateral attempt on Chekov's life. We're probably looking at a rogue Regalian, someone who would have been really unhappy about Chekov gaining the throne, or someone who had a lot to lose because Chekov was discovered to be their next monarch. Now, the Parliamentary members have all agreed to individual questioning --" 

"I don't have one last good nerve left to wait around while you have nice little chats with the members of Parliament and figure out who tried to kill Pavel over tea and biscuits! Plus there's just no way it can only be about Pavel becoming their monarch. It's all tied in to this Federation thing, Jim, I know it," Leonard scowled. "Why else would they choose to use Topaline specifically, unless they were trying to make a point?"

"It's definitely a possibility," Jim allowed. "We have Ensign Rusesk and Federation Representative Sanders already on their way to a briefing room to communicate with Starfleet. As soon as we can patch in the signal, they'll speak with the brass about it and address the possibility of foul play. But Bones, you've got to allow us to question the Regalians one at a time and keep things civil. We can't just accuse them all of trying to kill Chekov and seem like we're making something up out of whole cloth when we don't have all the information yet."

"Yeah, okay," Len said begrudgingly. "But I'm coming with you when you talk to those Regalians," he called out as Jim made a move for the door.

"You don't want to --" Jim waved his hand at the biobed where Pavel lay quietly, color and heat gradually returning fully to his cheeks. 

"I trust Geoff and Christine to care for him. And we've found out what the problem is now. I want to give whoever did this a piece of my mind."

"Well." Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure it wouldn't be better for you to rest up. If Pavel recovers enough and we end up going through with this wedding thing today --"

"Don't be ridiculous," Len snapped. "If it's even still happening, if Chekov hasn't found some way to wriggle out of it, we're delaying it, no question. I'm not going to make Pavel stand there and say his I-dos if he's barely able to stay upright."

"If Chekov hasn't found some way to wriggle out of it," Jim repeated, looking dumbfounded. "Bones, don't you get it? I'm pretty sure Chekov isn't looking for any way to get out marrying you."

"Well, he's not awake yet to tell me whether that's true, so." When Jim still looked conflicted, Leonard gave Pavel's hand one last squeeze and rose up. "Damn it, Jim, let me down there with you. I've got to do _something_."

Jim's expression turned serious, and he gave a curt nod as his consent. "Doctor, nurse," he said briskly to Chapel and M'Benga. 

"He'll be in good hands, Leonard," Geoff said somberly.

"You can count on that," Christine added, standing above Chekov like she was ready to simultaneously bake up a whole batch of Pavel's favorite cookies and take out with a roundhouse kick anyone who so much as looked at the ensign funny.

"Spock, you're with us," Jim said, already making for the door. "Let's go."

*****

Though Len was all for starting the proceedings as soon as possible, they all got held up for an hour while Jim recorded specific instructions to the Admirals in case anything on planet should go awry. "Besides, the Regalians are on the case themselves," Jim said when Len complained about the hold-up. "Uhura got a message that they're being summoned to the Council Chambers for questioning, and the ones that have been contacted so far have all arrived without quarrel. Now that Chekov's going to be okay, we have a little bit of time."

"I don't like it," Len grumbled as Spock stood at parade rest next to Jim's desk, looking for all the world like he was ready to hold that position until kingdom come. He supposed he ought to support Jim's choice to abide by protocol for once, even if it did stand in his way from taking on any and all shifty looking Regalians as soon as possible.

"Okay, we're ready," Jim said after hurriedly signing one last PADD handed to him by his yeoman. "Let's head to the transporter."

"Where are we going first?" Len asked as they exited the turbolift a few moments later. "Some kind of Parliament reception room for punch and pie?"

"Council Chambers, the room where we first hung out when we found out Chekov was the new Regalian monarch," Jim said absently, patting his side to make certain he had his communicator. "Scotty's got the coordinates already." 

"Isn't Sulu going to be joining us?" Len asked as they took their places on the platform. "You'd think he'd want to be on board the team investigating who tried to kill his best friend." 

"Oh, he wanted to go and kick some Regalian ass as soon as he heard what was up," Jim assured him. "But I need him here, in case anything happens with the ship and Scotty needs Sulu to take the conn. Besides, he was really mad. And I've got enough to do with holding _you_ back from tackling the Regalians over this, right?"

Len muttered under his breath exactly what he thought of that, while Spock regarded him as though Leonard was a Gossamer Mouse about to be fed a highly volatile substance, and Jim pretended not to hear Len reaming him out. 

"Ready when you are, Captain," Scotty said from the controls. 

"Beam us down, Mister Scott," Jim acknowledged.

In the moments before the transport process began, Len crossed his arms sullenly over his chest and tried not to heave an impatient sigh. After all, he expected hours and hours of futile meetings with way too earnest, sycophantic Regalians, all of them expressing genteel disbelief that any one of them might have taken aim at their recently-discovered monarch. If he had it his way, they'd get it all taken care of with a flash and a bang, so he could get back up to Pavel and iron out whatever was going to happen between the two of them. 

*****

Whatever boring reception and interminable meetings Leonard had anticipated, though, he certainly didn't imagine that the five of them, including the two security officers Jim had engaged, would beam down to a veritable shower of phaser fire. It seemed he'd gotten his flash and bang after all. 

"Holy --" Jim blurted out before he shoved Spock behind a pile of crates and took aim at the Regalian who was hurrying toward him, weapon already drawn. 

"What's all this? I thought we were supposed to materialize in the Council Chambers for tea and biscuits," Len hollered after he too took cover behind what looked like a large shipping container.

"Looks like we got re-routed," Jim called back. Len could hear the zapping and see the flashes of the stun setting while the Regalian weaponry fired in retort. He held his breath for a moment. Nearby, the Regalian who had been sprinting for Jim grunted and tumbled to the ground in a sprawl in front of Len.

Jim made his way to cover, obviously having been on the heels of the unconscious man. He quickly took position next to Len. "Enterprise, we've got a situation," he said frantically into his communicator. "Enterprise, do you read me?" He frowned and gave the device a shake. 

Leonard tried his communicator as well, but try as he might, he couldn't get a signal. "Just our luck; I think something's jamming us. I can't get in touch with the ship either!"

"Captain!" Spock called out in warning. They hadn't taken down all the rogue Regalians they encountered when they beamed down to the planet yet, not by a long shot. And now over on the far side of the room, eight more Regalians appeared. Given the way one of them called urgently over his shoulder, it seemed like more were on the way. 

"All right, we'll have to make do. Bones, keep trying to contact the Enterprise. Matthews, S'entara, cover the left flank," Jim shouted to the two security members. He ran right, followed closely by Spock. 

For a while chaos reigned. Leonard could barely keep track of himself as he darted from one area of protection to another and periodically tried his communicator, never mind attempting to take an accurate count of just how many Regalians seemed in hot pursuit of him and the others. He managed to take occasional aim, hitting at least one Regalian attacking them. Soon after he witnessed Ensign S'entara cry out and crumple down in a heap. He had to ball his hands into fists and clench every muscle in his body to keep from running to the ensign with his medical tricorder to try and help the man. 

At one point during the melee, Leonard found himself in a small alcove with Spock. As he blinked and gave the Commander a nod in greeting, a Regalian surprised them both by rushing around the corner, knife in hand, and launching himself at Len.

"Christ," Len gasped out as the man managed to slash his upper left arm with a wild gesture. He staggered back, bracing himself against the wall for support. 

A moment later the Regalian man was flat on the ground as Spock, his face still relatively impassive, reached out quickly to apply the Vulcan nerve pinch.

"Thanks," Leonard managed. At Spock's raised eyebrow and pointed look at his wound, he scowled and gave him a little shove. "I'm fine, you hear me? He just stunned me for a second. You get back out there and subdue whoever the hell it is trying to take us out."

"Doctor," Spock acknowledged with a slight bow of his head before dashing out into the action again.

Leonard applied pressure to his arm and took a wary look around him. Seeing the coast was clear, he took the opposite direction to Spock. 

For a moment he paused in a dimly lit corner to zap his wound with the lowest setting of the dermal regenerator and temporarily stop the blood flow. No point in wasting the charge to heal his negligible cut entirely, not when it was very possible any other member of the team could be more gravely wounded when the dust settled. He had another go at trying to establish a signal with the Enterprise, but that still wasn't happening. Then he took a deep breath and took off at a run once more. 

"Goddamn it, it has to be that Orsini instigating all of this," Len growled, ducking behind a convenient proscenium arch next to where Jim was crouched, carefully taking aim at opponents. "I never trusted that guy for a second."

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm beginning to think he's not our black hat," Jim said before he aimed a volley of phaser fire in the direction of their assailants. 

"How the hell do you know that?" Leonard protested. 

"Because I'm pretty sure he's on our side," Jim said, jerking his head to indicate where, across the room, Orsini was grappling with one of the attacking Regalians. 

As Leonard gaped, Orsini began shouting directions to a small cadre of Regalian guards in official garb who had just arrived and were working to help contain the rebels. It had run through Len's mind a time or two since they'd arrived here that the Regalian clothing for guards, government officials, or anyone administrative, was a little on the hoity-toity side. But at least seeing the easily recognizable garb would make it easy enough to tell the actual guards apart from the plainclothesmen rebels. 

"We must protect the Federation representatives at all costs," Orsini yelled to his followers, who were apparently eager to obey his directions. "Let us reestablish peace so that we may question these wrongdoers among us!" They fanned out to follow orders with him in the lead. 

Len was reluctant even to think it, but the guy actually looked fierce and noble as he confronted another agitator and ordered him to stand down in the name of peace on Regalis Prime and the planet's cherished sovereign, Pavel Andreivich Chekov. Maybe he'd have to revise his opinions about Orsini, but that didn't mean he had to like the fellow even one little bit. 

"See what I mean? Now wait a sec -- hey, are you hurt?" Jim asked, concerned. He pointed to the torn sleeve and slash of red on Len's arm.

"Never mind that. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know it now!" Len said as soon as he could find his voice again. "If it wasn't Orsini who poisoned Pavel, who was it?"

"Bones, I promise you, we'll figure all that out in a couple of minutes. For now, if you're okay?" At Len's gruff affirmation, Jim dove back out into the open to reengage with the fray.

There was a quiet cackle and then Leonard heard, "Enterprise to Captain Kirk. Enterprise to Doctor McCoy. Enterprise to Commander Spock. Please respond!"

"Uhura," Len breathed, clutching the comm close to his mouth. "We've been in a boatload of trouble down here. Instead of the Council chambers, we beamed down into some kind of storage room that's lousy with rebel Regalians. I think we're managing to fend them off so far with the help of Orsini and his gang, but we sure could use some more help to subdue the last of them."

"This is Commander Scott," Scotty's voice came on next. "We'll send down a security team on the double to help. Any fatalities or injuries so far, Doctor, if you can answer?"

"I can reply for the moment," Leonard confirmed in a low voice. A weapon's report sounded off to his right, and he winced and ducked lower for cover. "One seriously injured, and a possible fatality -- I haven't been able to get close enough to him to confirm whether he's still alive -- Ensign S'entara. As for the rest of us, as far as I can tell we're okay. The only other one hurt so far is me. I took a hit on the arm, a knife wound. But it's barely a graze, so I'll be fine as soon as I can treat myself back on the ship, so --"

In the background, Leonard heard an outburst of irritated Russian words.

"Calm yourself, laddie!" Scotty went mute for a second, and when he came back on he sounded annoyed. "Your backup will be there in a moment, Doctor. Security guards only! Scott out."

"Well, of course security only, who else would --" Len began to grumble. Then his ears picked up that unique sound of particles singing through air. Four members of the security team beamed down and quickly took cover before spreading out to the corners of the room. 

Len nearly turned away, but then a moment later he heard that familiar transporter sound again. This time Pavel Chekov materialized a few feet away -- completely unguarded and totally out in the open where enemy fire could reach him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pavel and Len take on rebel attackers _and_ tackle the snags in their relationship (yes, at the same time).

"Damn it all to hell," Leonard roared. He paid no more mind to keeping his cover; instead, he took a running jump to bring down Chekov and shield him with his body.

"Let me up," Pavel managed crossly after letting out a surprised grunt at finding Len atop him. 

"No, I won't have you getting hurt," Len argued.

Pavel managed to twist around to give him a skeptical look and gestured to the cut on Len's arm. "And this? You are not yourself hurt?"

"That's just a scratch," Len said gallantly.

"How about less talking, more running for cover?" Jim shouted from behind them. 

Lucky for the two of them, the main fighting seemed to have moved to another area of the large room. Still, it wouldn't pay to linger, especially if the damn rebels caught on that the very monarch they'd wanted to poison was now an easy target out in the open. They scrambled to their feet, running in a zigzag away from the fire that dogged them at their heels. 

"Hurry, go," Pavel urged, grabbing a fistful of Len's tunic as they rounded a corner. When Len stumbled, Pavel tugged him to make him run even faster. 

"Quit yanking at me," Len grumbled. But he kept pace and the two of them reached a huge container block to hide behind moments later.

"But, how badly are you truly injured?" Chekov asked in concern, touching just above the cut on Len's arm, a frown on his face. "You should not remain, now that the signal to the ship has been reestablished." Despite having just told Leonard he ought to get the hell away, he squeezed the shoulder of Len's unhurt arm very lightly and didn't let go. 

"Never mind that. Why the hell didn't you stay up on the ship?" Len asked indignantly. Somewhere at the back of his mind he ought to shrug off Pavel's hold in protest, but instead he covered that soft hand with one of his own. "Weren't you just unconscious in sickbay, oh, five seconds ago? How on earth did you weasel past Christine and Geoff in the state you were in?"

"I heal wery quickly," Chekov said in the most fool pigheaded voice Len had ever heard. His whole posture was tightly coiled with determination, but that didn't keep him from repositioning his hand to twine his fingers together with Len's. "Besides, from what I heard you say to Mister Scott you were in trouble and wounded; it was wery clear you needed my help!"

"Look, I don't care how quickly you think you heal or how much help you thought I needed. I very much doubt any medical professional would pronounce you combat ready at the moment. And I can tell you right now that this particular doctor is ready to order you back on to the ship and restricted to your quarters until further notice," Len hissed.

"Why do you think I should be the one to stay behind?" Pavel asked. His jaw was tight as his chin tilted up dangerously. Len almost groaned, recognizing that stubborn look of his, the one that had signaled Chekov agreeing to take the throne of Regalis Prime and getting them all into this crazy mess in the first place. 

"Oh, I don't know, so you could stay safe during a wild ruckus like this?" A shot _ping_ -ed off the top of the shipping container they hid behind, and Len swore a blue streak as he used their joined hands to pull Pavel down with him to the ground. "Or how about because some nutty offshoot group of Regalians wanted you dead so badly they poisoned you last night and is at this very moment trying to kill your command team?"

"I am just as capable of defending myself as you! And clearly as their monarch I should have a particular interest in helping find this traitor to the Regalian people."

In the large crowded room behind them, Leonard could still make out the sounds of rapid exchanges of fire and shouting. Obviously Orsini and his cohort had been partially successful in their bid to take control of the situation if the signal to the Enterprise had been reestablished. But hiding out as the two of them were, there was no sure way to tell in whose favor the fighting was swinging. 

"I said, stand down," Jim yelled, and both Len and Pavel snapped their heads toward the direction of his voice. 

"Don't go trying to be a hero, kid," Leonard advised him when he saw Pavel make a move to edge out. "Four trained and certified security crewmen beamed here before you did, and you can bet they have the situation under control just fine without you." He grabbed at Chekov's arm when Chekov sent him an angry look and began to try again to rise to his feet. 

"Why are you always calling me kid?" Pavel said angrily. "Always with the kid! I think it is because you want to put a separation between us, to pretend that I am too young for you."

Leonard gaped at him. "There's no pretending about it, you are way, way too young --"

"I am not too young," Pavel bellowed. 

Abruptly a rogue Regalian came around the bend of the container, charging with his weapon already aimed at them. But just as quickly Chekov flung out a sure and steady hand and sent the man down with a single fire of his stun setting. 

"You like to complain and make little of things that threaten you," Pavel said heatedly. 

Leonard groaned when he spotted another rebel, who came at them with an angry yell and wrenched the phaser right out of Pavel's hand. Without missing a beat, Chekov jabbed the new aggressor in the solar plexus before he threw a wild uppercut to his jaw that sent the man into a whimpering sprawl at their feet. 

"But you do this," Pavel went on furiously even as he recovered his weapon, "and you close off the people who would be good for you. Well, I will not allow you to deny yourself such possibilities any longer."

"I'm not denying myself," Leonard said irritably, making himself heard over the sound of yelling just beyond their breached hideout. "I'm trying to do the right thing, which means explaining to you exactly how I feel about you! It also means giving you the chance to back out of this forced marriage business if there's any kind of alternative, so that you can have a happy life without being shackled to me!" 

"Exactly how _do_ you feel about me?" Pavel demanded. His glare at Len didn't stop him from blocking the blow of yet another rogue Regalian who hurdled over the container hiding them with a war cry. 

Leonard wanted to tear his hair out, both at the way the Regalians were scurrying in on each other's heels, but also at Pavel's damn mulishness. But when that recently-arrived Regalian made to throw a punch at Pavel, Len needed both his hands to shove the intruder away. 

For all that he thought they were gaining if not the upper hand then at least an even chance in the battle, the rebels sure were coming at them thick and fast. Then again, until now Len had been flying under the collective radar, nearly silent and sneaking from hiding place to hiding place. Now he and Pavel were having it out at a volume that could wake a hibernating Gorn. 

The Regalian Len had just pushed off sprang back toward them already recovered. He flashed a twisted leer, clearly about to take another run at Chekov. But just as suddenly as he had arrived, his expression shifted to one of surprise and he fell to the ground.

Through the haze of the scuffling and his own mounting irritation, Len perceived Lieutenant Matthews had fired a phaser set to stun at the fallen Regalian. She gave Leonard and Chekov a brisk nod as she repositioned herself to aim at the remaining rebels.

Since it seemed everyone but he had the fighting well in hand, Len threw his own hands into the air. "You want to know how I feel about you? Fine! I love you, okay? I didn't mean to fall in love with you, but here we are! Which is why I'm trying to tell you we probably shouldn't get married! Because you didn't sign up for some kind of complicated affair of the heart with a worn out medical officer when you found out you had to get hitched just so you could keep on being the Grand High Imperial Blah-de-blah of Regalia Town!"

"You are the most obstinate, oblivious --" 

And here Pavel broke off to jump over a kick from the second Regalian he had previously taken down, the one who until seconds before was slumped in pain on the ground. The numbskull had apparently been inspired to try again, and struggled back up to his feet to continue the brawl. But he didn't get in more than one blow before Pavel reared back and struck his opponent with an elbow to the throat, and continued "-- by far the most stubborn and difficult man I have ever known!"

"Well, maybe you haven't been meeting the right people," Leonard hollered so he could be heard over the sound of Chekov heaving their most persistent attacker away. The advancing man crashed against a stack of piled up boxes and sent everything hurtling to the ground. Len started to charge closer to help with the melee, but a dark look from Pavel had him slinking back to his previous spot. Okay, so maybe he didn't have the combat training that command track obviously got, if Pavel's efficient fighting while still railing about Len's faults was any indication. But he wasn't some young naïf who needed to be protected, especially not by his teenaged fiancé! 

"Are you the sort of man who needs to be hit over the head with such things?" Pavel yelled back, clearly exasperated. He stopped the punch coming from the rebel Regalian still doggedly pursuing him, who had been aiming at his stomach. He wrenched the man's hand back (Len winced when he heard the pained shriek as those spindly fingers were forced away) and the man finally collapsed in a pathetic-looking heap on the ground. 

"Do you not already realize that I am hopelessly in love with you?" Pavel shouted in pure vexation. "Must I declare to you at the top of my voice that my heart is already yours and has been for some time?"

Even Jim and Spock, both still tussling with their own opponents, paused mid-thump and mid-nerve-pinch at this one. Luckily they'd already more or less felled their foes so Len didn't have to worry about the two of them getting tackled while all of these hugely embarrassing confessions of feelings were going on. Even the poor idiot who Pavel had just re-injured looked surprised at Pavel's declaration and absorbed in the proceedings (as much as a man gasping and writhing on the floor could appear interested). 

"Yeah, well," Len huffed. "Maybe I do need you to say all that stuff straight out, okay? I'm not used to people, you know --" He waved a hand about to indicate all of this awkward emotional talk. "Anyway, all this time I've been trying to stay out of your way so you could have as much freedom as possible even in this goddamn ridiculous situation we're in. I just thought you wouldn't _want_ to be saddled with an old country doctor like me if you didn't have to be, which if you think about it, isn't such a crazy assumption! It's no secret I haven't had the best luck with this sort of stuff. I mean, I've already got one failed marriage under my belt so far, and I'm not the easiest person to be with, and I'm twice your age and you --" Feeling suddenly weary, Len could feel his fit of pique abruptly wind down. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "You're young and gorgeous and smart, and you've got plenty of friends and a terrific future ahead of you. Why the hell would a man like you fall for a guy like me?"

"You are not wery good with the feelings," Pavel announced. Instead of continuing to glare, however, his eyes crinkled and his lips twitched slightly like he was fighting the urge to smile. He moved a little closer to Len, looking for all the world shy and vulnerable even though he'd just taken out more than his fair share of violent mutinous aliens. 

"In the name of all that is sacred to the world of Regalis Prime --" Yet another rebel came careening around the corner, yelling out as he advanced upon them.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" Len burst out at this latest interruption. 

When Pavel impatiently half-turned to deal with the newest invader, both of them watched as Lieutenant Matthews took steady aim at the man before taking him down with a single phaser stun shot. 

"Think that's all of 'em," Matthews called out. Though Len heard the sounds and caught glimpses of Enterprise crewmen and the group of loyal Regalians around them taking stock and regrouping, the import of the words took a few moments to sink in. Matthews herself took a last look around before hurrying over to help S'entara, her fallen security team member. 

Reproaching himself for not thinking of S'entara immediately as soon as Matthews gave the all-clear, Len stepped forward. But Matthews, who probably deserved about five commendations for her work today, had obviously already summoned Doctor M'Benga. Leonard saw his colleague arrive on the scene with a medical kit and move directly to the injured man. 

"I've got him, Len; I'll call you if I need you," Geoff said calmly as he knelt and began to help S'entara. 

For a moment Len twitched. Even if Geoff felt like he had the situation under control, he should probably head over there. He glanced over at Pavel, who was watching him intently and swallowed. Okay, so much as he liked to wave away all sorts of uncomfortable realizations about himself, Len couldn't help but recognize he had maybe a little bit of a tendency to hightail it out of conversations when sensitive issues reared their head. If he changed tacks to see to S'entara now, he'd only be side-stepping a talk he and Pavel really needed to have. 

So Leonard took a deep breath and turned to face his fiancé. "Not good with feelings, huh?" he snapped as Pavel's eyes met his.

"You are wery terrible with them," Chekov returned, half-teasing. He had a funny little smirk on his face, as though they hadn't just been in the middle of a knock-down drag-out commotion with a gang of agitators only moments ago. 

Leonard cracked a rueful half-smile at that. Hell, he would have grinned outright, were he not just a little afraid of getting this more forceful and adult version of the naïve navigator he thought he knew irked at him again. "All right, so I'm terrible," he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

"You think you must handle everything, and make all of the decisions," Chekov continued, now at a normal volume, seeing as how there were no longer enemies around them causing a rumpus. "But we must work together to make an agreement between us. Do not think I should wait around and comply with whatever you decide; I must be part of these conclusions."

"Okay," Len grumbled. "That's fair," he said quickly when Chekov scowled at him.

"Also, you must stop with this thinking that I am, I do not know, humoring you when I explain I want to be with you, or imagine for a moment that I am not serious about things like meeting your daughter. And please desist thinking I do not want you in such a way, not when I kiss you back with everything that I have in me, because of some werdict you have arrived at yourself and will not consult with me about. Most of all, you must stop thinking you need to protect me and keep any problems from me!" Chekov looked properly indignant now.

"Okay, okay, don't go building up a head of steam again! I'll talk to you from now on, I swear." Leonard crossed his arms in front of his chest and paused for a moment before bursting out: "But still, what else was I supposed to think before I knew all that? It wasn't that crazy to worry that you might have felt obligated because I'd jumped into this mess, or that you were trying to protect me from feeling like an old fool. You had all the Regalian royal stuff to consider, and how was I to know you actually, you know, cared for me?"

"You complete --" and here Chekov let loose a stream of Russian that sounded more incensed than any words Leonard had ever heard in his life. "Stop this at once! I do not feel obliged or the rest of this nonsense! I love only you, and have done so, since some time before I ever found out that the Regalian people considered me their next ruler. Do you not understand me? I would give up that throne, and a thousand thrones besides, if you would stop trying to push me aside and realize that I am the one for you, Leonard McCoy!"

For a moment Len said nothing. Then he could no longer fight off the smile that was rising to his lips. "Wait, wait," he said, trying to get a hold of himself and muster a more serious expression. "You've been in love with me for a while? Since way before all this becoming-the-ruler-of-Regalis-Prime thing?"

"Well. Yes," Pavel allowed. He gave Leonard a dark look as his cheeks reddened. 

Len stopped trying to hide his grin. Why should he, in the face of hearing something so completely fantastic? But as long as they were both admitting embarrassing stuff, Leonard figured he could ante up as well. "Yeah, okay, I might have done and said some dumb things throughout all of this," he admitted begrudgingly. "And I might have settled on thinking a few things that turned out to be dead wrong."

"Might have?" Chekov sounded incredulous, but his lips were quirking, as if he was trying to hold back his own smile. 

"But you have to admit, it was a crazy situation," Leonard insisted.

"I admit it," Chekov conceded with a silly grin on his face. "Just because the circumstances are unusual, though, does not mean that good things cannot come out of them."

"Like the two of us," Leonard said hesitantly.

Chekov reached out his hand and took Len's in it, stroking along his knuckles and squeezing his palm. "Like the two of us," he agreed. He paused, dipping his head again as the flush returned to his cheeks. "You think I am gorgeous?" he asked, half endearing shyness, half seductive archness as he glanced up at Len with those stunning sea-green eyes. 

"Ow, jeez," Jim shouted from somewhere nearby. 

"Keptin, are you hurt?" Pavel called anxiously.

"No! I mean, yeah, a little bit, but I'll be fine. So do you think maybe you guys can convince Spock that?" 

Still hand-in-hand, they peered around the container. 

Some of the other Enterprise crewmen involved in the fray had already beamed back aboard while a few others had transported down to check on the situation, taking their places. S'entara and M'Benga were gone; Len could only assume the injured crewman had been taken to sickbay in a non-urgent transfer, or he would have heard a lot more commotion, even from someone as calm as Geoff. Matthews was still there, speaking to a few of the loyal Regalians who had been defending them along with Orsini. So with all the milling around, they had to take a few steps past the crowd before they caught sight of Jim. 

When they finally spotted him, they found Jim was flat on his back, looking impatient. It was easy enough to figure out what exactly was keeping him from getting to his feet: Spock, who held him down with one firm hand and checked over his body for injuries with the other. 

Spock jerked his head up when he saw Len and Pavel staring at him, baring his teeth in the most feral expression Len had ever witnessed. Len could only imagine how Spock must have reacted to the others in the room if all those crewmen and Regalians hustling and bustling around them were giving him and the captain such wide berth. 

"It is only us, Commander," Pavel blurted out, clearly alarmed. "We do not wish to harm the Keptin!"

A beat passed before Spock's expression turned to his standard flat calm look. "I apologize," Spock said stiffly, helping Jim stand. "But it was only logical that I establish the Captain was unharmed by recent events. Additionally, it was most rational to react with defensive measures upon perceiving more intruders." 

"If by logical you mean act all crazy and pin me to the floor for no reason, then yeah, sure, I guess that was logical," Jim put in with a pointed look for Spock. But despite rolling his eyes at Spock's stalwartly inexpressive face, he let go of the wrist hold Spock had used slowly, like a caress. 

"Sheesh, will the two of you make it official already?" Leonard grumbled.

"Only if you two do the same," Jim retorted. Even though Len scowled at him to forestall any more smart remarks, Jim grinned widely, clearly pleased to see Len and Chekov standing so close to each other and hand-in-hand at that. 

"Yeah, well," Len muttered. When he realized Pavel was grinning at him, he grasped the kid's hand tighter before he drew it up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. He could hear Jim making outlandish, "aww!"-ing sounds, but after all the madness that had gone on and the danger they'd been in, he didn't much care who saw him look like a complete fool at the moment. In fact, an entire posse more of rebel Regalians could have burst in with fireworks poised to go off all around them for all that Leonard could see much of anything besides Pavel right at that moment. 

" _Yo moyo_ ," Chekov exclaimed suddenly, gripping Len's hand hard. "We are getting married!"

"Well, yeah," Len said gruffly. "That's what all of this nonsense has been about from start to finish, hasn't it?"

"No, I mean, we are getting married _in three hours_ ," Pavel clarified, eyes wide with alarm. "We will be making it official, as you say, wery shortly." 

"Oh, hell," Leonard said feelingly, taking his hand back to rub at his temples. He'd managed to temporarily block out how close they were to the deadline of their stupidly grand ceremony, what with all the uproar, but a quick glance at his comm chrono told him Pavel was right. "Not that I'm not all for the end result," he added hastily when Pavel looked uncertain. "It's just a bit much, having to take part in a huge ritual following on the heels of all this hullaballoo." 

It was then that Orsini stepped up, smooth demeanor fully reestablished and suave smile back on his face. "We rejoice with all our hearts that the Regalian monarch and his most esteemed consort remain relatively unharmed and that this despicable plot that took aim at your revered persons has been foiled." 

"Thank you for all of your help, Orsini," Chekov said eagerly.

Orsini bowed low, a hand over his heart to show how gratified he was, and resumed his previous position with dignity. "I understand your misgivings about undertaking the most glorious ceremony we have planned for you so soon after such a troublesome incident. Of course, the Regalian people understand more time may be needed for you to recuperate under these most trying circumstances."

It was by the skin of his teeth that Leonard kept himself from sputtering _Consort???_ and instead took a deep breath. "We appreciate that, Orsini," he said in a brusque voice. After a quick glance at Pavel, he went on, "We really would like some time to get ourselves together before we go ahead with this marriage business. I mean, as long as it won't cause a whole mess of inconvenience for you folks, or cause any unrest on the planet. Anyway, like Pavel said, I want to thank you for all your help in stopping this fracas. I don't know if we would have made it out in one piece if it hadn't been for you and your men." 

Orsini bowed gracefully once more, an even more elaborate swoop of a posture that somehow looked elegant rather than obsequious. "It is not about our convenience, but our joy in seeing your nuptials celebrated as you wish them. I am quite sure any discontent among the Regalian people will be easily mitigated by this excellent news of your safety and continued commitment to carrying through with the ceremony as soon as is reasonable." 

"That is most kind of you," Pavel said, looking extremely relieved. "I know there has been much work and a great deal of care put into the wedding." 

"Please do not think of our happy labors a moment longer, oh already beloved ruler of us all," Orsini urged.

"Damn it, does he have to be such a hero and ridiculously understanding and gracious to boot?" Len mumbled under his breath.

Orsini, who apparently hadn't been able to make out any of Len's ill-advised complaining, looked slightly bewildered but smiled back at them. Good thing he felt compelled to offer them another one of his extravagant bows to cover his confusion; that way Leonard didn't have to worry about hiding his wince when Pavel elbowed him right in the ribs. 

"Orsini, forgive me for joining your conversation," Jim said, stepping closer to their group, Spock hovering just over his shoulder. He easily ignored Len muttering, "Since when have you ever apologized for butting in?" and continued, "But I couldn't help but overhear, and I also want to thank you for your understanding in this instance."

"It is indeed courteous," Spock added. "Of course, the additional time before the rescheduled wedding should be used not only for recovery from the unexpected fight we just faced, but our joint investigation into what caused the unrest that brought it about in the first place."

Jim nodded in agreement. "We still need to determine who poisoned Chekov and work to help you and the other Parliamentarians figure out exactly why a group of your citizens is rebelling."

"Not just because of the resources the Federation wants to broker," Len broke in. "But because while we've been dealing with all of this, the Regalians have become, well. Sort of like our friends."

The way Pavel beamed at him for those words made Leonard's cheeks heat slightly. "Well, it's true," he said defensively. He could probably blame his warm and fuzzy feelings for Pavel on the way he was acting so magnanimous toward Regalians at the moment. 

"I am most gratified to hear you say so, Consort Doctor McCoy," Orsini replied, looking actually moved, not just sycophantic the way that little toady Sebastinio had done whenever he praised Pavel or the Enterprise crew. Then Orsini hesitated before sighing. "It is with great sadness that I will confess my suspicions as to the culprit of this nefarious conspiracy: our Chief Advisor, Sebastinio."

"Sebastinio?" Len interjected, really sputtering now. "Seriously? But that guy loved everything about Chekov! He was practically beside himself when Pavel agreed to take the throne!"

"Perhaps it seemed so, both to you and to the rest of us. When your Captain contacted me about the grievous poisoning perpetrated on our monarch and asked to meet with members of Parliament, I could not imagine who might be responsible. But after Captain Kirk's message and just before this conflict, my secretary relayed to me recently intercepted transmissions indicating that Sebastinio had an interest in trading vast quantities of our planet's Topaline to an interested party. It pains me to say he had been undertaking these traitorous dealings with a group of Klingons."

"I told you it was all about Topaline this entire time!" Len practically exploded at Jim.

"Though thought loyal to the monarchy, Sebastinio evidently grew to love the treasures and promises of the Klingon Empire more than his heritage and people," Orsini said, shaking his head. "It seems, based on my initial reading of the relevant evidence, that he may well have begun conferring with the Klingons in secret at some point during this past year. Perhaps it was the bleak period, during which we seemed to have no hope of discovering a directly descended monarch for our throne, which changed his nature. Many of our people experienced increasing sorrow and hopelessness in those months, and it is possible desperation caused Sebastinio to betray not only his planet but himself." 

"So you think Sebastinio not only convinced others to rebel, but actually tried to kill Chekov directly?" Jim asked Orsini. "I'd like to see the evidence you have so far." 

"That and more we would be most pleased to share with you and your officers, so that we may avail ourselves of the Federation's contribution to this investigation," Orsini said graciously. With one last bow, Orsini departed, followed by a few of the more officious looking Regalians helping to take stock of the scene. 

"So," Jim said in an undertone. "Looks like we have a bit of wiggle room before the two of you have to get married."

"Looks like," Len said reluctantly. His eyes flickered to Pavel, who glanced down, long lashes brushing his fair cheeks. "Except we _want_ to get married pretty soon, I think."

Pavel looked up immediately, a shy smile spreading over his face. "Yes, that is correct. Though we will take advantage of the Regalians' offer of more time, I think that Leonard and I do not wish to delay the ceremony for wery long."

"Okay." Jim grinned at the two of them and clapped an arm around Spock's shoulders in effusive camaraderie. Spock held himself very still before leaning in ever so slightly, presumably to soak up all the buddy-buddy groping Jim was giving out until maybe he could get the captain alone for something a little more interesting.

"There is something I want to do first, before we figure out the exact date," Len spoke up before he had to watch any more of his captain's and first officer's awkward flirtation. 

"Oh, of course," Pavel said a bit stiffly. Leonard was about to ask what in sam hill was the matter now when Pavel continued, "I will leave you to whatever tasks you think necessary. Should you need additional time to yourself, you certainly should take --"

"No, no, I've got something I really want to do that includes you," Len cut him off irritably.

"I'll bet you do," Jim snorted, undeterred by Spock's disapproving look at him. 

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Leonard growled at him. "Pavel?" He held out a hand.

Pavel didn't hesitate a second before he reached out and took Len's grasp in a firm hold of his own.


	12. Chapter 12

Len led the way to his quarters, keeping Pavel close by with a firm grip on his hand and scowling at every ensign and lieutenant they passed who looked at them with arched eyebrows or knowing smirks.

By now the entire ship would have been alerted about the craziness that had taken place down on planet. Hell, most likely everyone on duty would already be aware of the wedding ceremony's rescheduling.

But it was clear that no one felt daunted by the reports that their command team had been in a veritable brawl below, at least not going by the way Jim's wispy yeoman winked blatantly at Pavel and Len. 

To be fair, given the way Pavel trailed Len at close range, blushing and ducking his head with a smile as different people called out, "Get a room, you two!" and even "Oh, has the honeymoon started already?" Leonard guessed he could forgive their fellow crew-men for getting a little distracted. 

"Okay, so," Len began as soon as they were inside his quarters, the door sliding shut behind them. "I thought we could --mpphghhph," he finished as Pavel rushed to shove him against the bulkhead and kissed him passionately.

It wasn't exactly what Leonard had had in mind, but his mind was the least of him voting in the proceedings. So before he could really register what was happening, Len was gripping a slim hip with his left hand, tugging Pavel's curls back and cupping his head in his right, deepening the kiss by licking into Pavel's mouth and devouring the small sounds he made. 

"Wait, no, hang on a sec," he panted as Pavel shimmied up against him. Pavel had already thrown both his arms around Len's neck, and clutched his shoulders like a lifeline as he moaned into their kiss. 

"What, why?" Pavel asked. He drew back for a moment, looking gorgeously befuddled with his wide, dazed green eyes and rumpled uniform. 

"Because as much. As I'd like. To keep this going," Leonard explained in stilted words, kissing Pavel in between each choppy phrase, "This isn't. Actually what I meant. When I asked you back to my place."

"What did you mean?" Pavel asked with a knowing smile. He stroked a fingertip along the nape of Leonard's neck and looked up at him with beguilingly heavy-lidded eyes. 

"I meant to take you back here so I could record a comm to go through to my little girl, telling her about the wedding coming up. I figured if you didn't mind, that way you could meet her. Or at least she could meet you, kind of, even if it's not in real time," Len said gruffly. 

Pavel's eyes went wide again, this time in clear surprise.

"'Course, if you don't feel like doing that, or maybe if you wanted to rest or talk about it first before we went ahead and followed through on the idea," Leonard continued, feeling uncomfortable as Pavel continued to stare at him disbelievingly. "I mean, we didn't discuss it yet, so I would understand. And you did just recover from being poisoned. Plus I can't imagine taking out all those rebel Regalians was exactly a walk in the park --"

" _Nyet_ ," Pavel blurted, and then laughed. "I mean, no, I can do this now, and yes, yes, I would like to record the greeting to your Joanna by your side."

"Well, all right then," Leonard said awkwardly. "Let me just -- I sent a message up to Uhura before we beamed back aboard, letting her know to expect the message. Maybe she can help us direct the recording to Joanna right after we're done. I'll check in with her first just in case --" 

Pavel perched carefully on the lounge chair in the living section of Leonard's quarters while Len sent a signal down to the bridge from his desk.

"Lieutenant Uhura," he heard in answer to his hail. 

"Uhura. McCoy here. I was wondering --"

The visual clicked on, giving him a start. He could see Uhura at the Communications control panel, flicking switches and tuning buttons. "Your request has been processed. Subspace frequencies already established. Your daughter should be available to speak to you in approximately ninety seconds."

"Wait, I just asked about a recording! And you cleared a channel for this? Already?" Len asked, his mouth going dry and his voice coming out in a raspy croak. "You mean we're going to get to talk right to her? I couldn't even get a hold of the kid for weeks! How did you get her on the line so fast?"

Uhura gave him a stern look. "You're finally going to do right by Pavel and introduce him to your daughter? No way was I not going to help make that happen. Besides, you should realize when I want something done, it gets done, Doctor."

"Oh, I realize that," Len said, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. 

"Patch the signal through as soon as I have it?" Uhura asked briskly. 

"That'd be swell," Len said as heartily as he was able, though his heart was going a million miles an hour at the thought they'd actually be speaking to his kid in less than a minute. 

The visual feed snapped off. 

He turned back to see Pavel sitting alertly, his eyes wide. "You heard the lady. We're going to speak right to Joanna in just a moment. You sure you ready for this, though? It's a little different than what I asked you to do, obviously. I won't blame you at all if you feel like it's a bit much." 

"No, I wish to continue," Pavel answered with his usual determined bravado. Still, his fiancé looked more than slightly alarmed, which to Leonard's way of thinking showed more good sense than if he was completely cavalier about the matter. 

"Okay. Hey, I can turn the monitor this way." He reoriented the screen toward his living space and took the middle cushion on the couch. When his hand fell on the cushion next to him, he hesitated. "If you want to, or I can talk to her first, and --"

"I will be glad to be at your side," Pavel said warmly. He didn't wait a beat before he stood and changed seats so he was next to Len.

A second later they heard a beep to indicate the launching of the direct communications channel. "Signal establishing," they heard Uhura say. "Ready for your conference, Doctor McCoy." 

The screen again flickered to life with an image of Leonard's daughter Joanna sitting attentively on an old-fashioned wooden chair. Her round cheeks were ruddy, as though she had just rushed in from playing outside, and her dark hair looked frazzled, like it had recently fought its way out of what had initially been a tight braid. She wore some nightmare of a pink and purple froufy concoction that Leonard imagined his mother had stitched up during her visit.

"Daddy?" Joanna asked, grinning at the screen as he obviously came into visual focus on her end. Her smile was so wide he could see as she beamed at him she was missing two teeth on the top row.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said, trying not to choke up at seeing her at last after too long a break. "You being good for Grandma and Grandpa?"

"Yes! I make my bed every day and I set the table when I remember and I help with the story time at night when Grandpa needs to read to me so it'll help him sleep." She nodded emphatically before asking curiously, "You being good too?" 

"Trying to," he muttered. Then louder he said, "Say, sweetheart, I wanted you to meet somebody. This is Pavel Chekov."

"Hi," Joanna said shyly, taking notice for the first time of the man beside her father. She regarded them for a moment before she buried her face in the stuffed animal she held on her lap.

"She gets a little shy with new folks," Len said under his breath. 

"Is no problem," Chekov said. He leaned forward, looking utterly charmed.

"Pavel here -- he's a navigator here on the Enterprise with me -- he helps figure out where the ship is going."

"Where you're going in space?" Joanna asked, looking impressed as she lifted her head. Then she scooted forward eagerly to the edge of her chair. "Can you make my daddy's ship come to visit me here? That way you could get here before dinner time and show me how to catch the frogs down at the creek in the woods. I'm on Marina II right now," she added, as if this was all the information required to make such a feat magically occur in time for supper. 

"I would be happy to help you catch frogs," Pavel said. His green eyes shone as he smiled eagerly at Joanna. "Perhaps we cannot come as quickly as tonight, unfortunately, but I hope to meet you wery soon."

Joanna screwed up her lips in concentration. "You know what? You talk like you come from somewhere else," she said sagely. "Are you an alien?"

"No, actually, I am from Earth just like you, from Russia," Pavel explained. 

"Oh. Are you and Daddy coming for dinner tonight or not?" Joanna asked impatiently, clearly bored of the topic of Pavel's country of origin. 

Before Pavel could try to answer, Len interrupted, "We can't come for dinner right now, sweetheart, but I wanted to share something really important with you."

Joanna's face fell for the barest of seconds when Leonard said they couldn't visit just yet. Then, like the sky clearing after a storm, her face smoothed and she fiddled with her stuffed animal's bow. "Oh-kayyy," she said in a sing-song voice. 

"Ready for the big news?" Len asked.

"I guess so?" she replied, raising her hands palms-up in an exaggerated shrug. "My Daddy is a doctor," she told Pavel loftily before Leonard could speak. "And I'm going to be a doctor when I grow up. And own a zoo. And dance as a ballet-er." 

"That is wery ambitious," Pavel said with a grin. He sent Len a sly look before he turned again to address Joanna. "Incidentally, did you know ballet was inwented in Russia?"

"Where _you're_ from?" She bounced in her seat. "Did you ever know how to dance like a ballet-er?"

"When I was quite small, yes, but it has been many years," Pavel told her. 

"Can you do the pird-ooh-ette still?" she asked, her blue eyes wide. "That's a really hard one." 

As Pavel laughed appealingly, Len almost threw his hands up in the air. He wanted to convey their news to his daughter; it was pretty much the whole point of this comm. But he also didn't want to interrupt a scene that was so sweet it was making his teeth ache. 

"But your father is correct, about this news he wishes to convey," Pavel said gently after glancing at Leonard. He and Joanna, light years apart, both turned to look at Leonard expectantly. 

"Joanna, honey," Len got out. As unobtrusively as possible, he swept his hand over his brow to wipe away the sweat beading there. "Pavel and I --"

"Are you boyfriends?" Joanna asked in the same sort of voice she would use to ask if they were having potatoes with dinner. She had at some point curled a lock of her hair loosely around her first two fingers, and now she chewed on the ends absently as she watched them. 

"Yes," Pavel said, nodding.

"We are. But not just that, sweetie. Pavel and I --" Leonard took a deep breath. 

Unbidden, Pavel took his hand from his knee, twining their fingers together. Len squeezed his fiancé's palm as he gathered his courage. "We're going to be married, and we wanted to tell you as soon as we could."

"Oh!" Joanna sat up, dropping her stuffed animal to the floor. "Will there be flowers? And music? And a big cake with lots of frosting? And can I come?"

"Baby, I'd like nothing better than for you to be here for the ceremony." For the barest second it flashed through Len's mind that they might still have the opportunity to get Joanna to Regalis Prime in time for the wedding. But no, they were dealing with enough delays of the rites already, especially considering the Regalian need for married rulers to maintain social harmony. He didn't feel like he could in good conscience ask for yet another extension, especially when he might have to wrangle with Jocelyn about the possibility of Joanna even coming in the first place.

So he took a deep breath and explained, "But Pavel, he's someone kind of important to the planet of people we're near right now. Because of that, we need to have the wedding really soon, way before we could get you out here." 

"But we can have another celebration with you even after this wedding, a special party, when we are able," Pavel added, glancing at Len who nodded in agreement. "I would wery much like to arrange to meet you as soon as possible, Joanna McCoy."

"Okay," she said softly. She grinned at both of them before glancing off to the left, toward what sounded like a growing murmur of exclamations. "Tell me when we're going to have our party, okay?" she declared as she hopped off the chair. "I need a new dress and boots to walk in the mud and sparkly fairy wings to dance around in for your wedding," she said quickly before grabbing her fallen stuffed animal and racing away.

"Leonard?" Len's mother's voice came over the comm, shocked and excited all at once. "Did you just say to Jo -- son, you're getting _married_?"

"Oh, right," Len muttered, squaring his shoulders as his mother and father both made their way to the camera's focus point. His father held a dish towel he wiped his hands on as he blinked rapidly at Pavel with keen interest, while his mother adjusted her glasses to peer at the screen. Under his breath, Len murmured to Pavel, "Sorry to spring all this on you, but since we're here -- mind meeting the rest of the future in-laws too?"

*****

There had been so many bombshells and changes of plans ever since they arrived on Regalis Prime, Len supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when it turned out there would be one more in store. So instead of the crazy multi-scene wedding they had been destined to suffer through on Regalis Prime, as luck would have it in the end everyone agreed that he and Pavel could get married on the Enterprise. 

Of course, it didn't just come to pass quite as easily as all that. While Leonard held tight to his temper, they went back and forth with politicos about the plans. The Minister for Interplanetary Pride had plenty to say about the fervor for ceremony that the Regalians possessed in spades, and Orsini and the rest of that crowd politely reminded everyone about the crazy amount of planning that had obviously gone into the ceremony shebang they had cooked up. 

Meanwhile, during the negotiations Leonard had actually managed to steal a few moments here and there to talk to Pavel about what it meant that they were now going to do this thing because they wanted to be together, instead of only because Pavel's subjects wanted their ruler married so badly. 

"I think maybe if we could do the ceremony on the ship and then follow that with whatever series of receptions you all have planned on the planet, that would be ideal," Jim began to suggest after a particularly trying meeting, during which a pack of them had been circling around the same arguments for nearly an hour. "That way, we'd still get to enjoy all of your --"

"--way too elaborate hullabaloo," Leonard had grumbled under this breath while Chekov sent him an exasperated warning look that Len, god help him, found unbelievably charming. 

"-- carefully planned celebrations," Jim had finished firmly, summoning that mature version of Captain Kirk that Leonard saw more and more glimpses of all the time. "But the rite itself we would hold here, with a few close friends of Bones's and Chekov's --"

"--which would include, of course, some Regalians among those friends," Pavel said warmly, words that went further to appease the misgivings of the members of Parliament than all of Jim's careful diplomatic maneuverings. Pavel named a good-sized handful of Regalians including Orsini, who smiled with delight clear on his expression, before turning his wide unblinking eyes in evident question at Len.

"Yeah, we'd be honored," Leonard grumbled, because he felt no closer to liking the looks of that Orsini fellow, handsome arrogant bastard that he was. But clearly he couldn't deny Orsini had turned out to be a true friend to them both as well as everyone aboard the Enterprise. 

Besides, Len owed it to Orsini for making what could have been a difficult inquiry bogged down with misunderstandings into a relatively painless process. The nasty business with Sebastinio and his furtive connections to the Klingons was still the subject of ongoing investigation. But Orsini's amiable readiness to cooperate with the Enterprise's officers and his smoothing over of relations between the Regalians and the Federation had made the entire business move forward a hell of a lot faster than anyone had initially expected. 

"Seems like the right thing to have you there with us when we tie the knot," Len added gruffly. 

Orsini had excitedly tried out the Terran handshake on him in thanks (Len had to restrain himself like crazy not to crush those spindly fingers in added warning to keep those pretty purple eyes from looking with too much interest at Pavel). "We understand finding Pavel is important as all get out to you folks, but the two of us finding each other --" He rubbed the back of his neck and scowled at the table top -- "well, that part is just a little more private, is all."

Surprisingly, it was Leonard's awkward explanation that definitively clinched the agreement to keep the wedding aboard the Enterprise in the end, even after Jim and Spock offered more carefully crafted reasons as to why they should have the wedding shipside. 

"Such a heartfelt request, of course, appealed to their highly sentimental nature," Spock droned on later in his assessment of the situation. "Which, as inordinately fond of elaborate public spectacles as the populace apparently is, it seems they are above all most enamored of the concept of romance. In fact," Spock went on, lecturing to Jim as Jim smiled fondly back at him (and really, how ridiculous were those two if they thought for even one second still that they weren't wearing their silly hearts on their gold-braided sleeves?) -- "In fact, I predict with an assurance of 85.23% that the practice of marrying among a few close well-wishers rather than before a large crowd will gain favor among the Regalian elite very shortly."

"You see that, Bones?" Jim declared, elbowing him. "You totally started a trend!"

"You will of course humor us with the extended celebrations after the rite on our planet," Orsini had confirmed at the close of the meeting when they broke the news to the Regalians. He stood in that typically pompous pose of his as he rose from the table, but seemed pleased to take Pavel's eager nod and Len's resigned eye roll as their joint agreement. 

"So, how about it, Captain Kirk?" Leonard asked later as the senior officers and makeshift wedding party settled down to hammer out the details of this newer, more private ceremony. "Seeing as how we're going to get married on the Enterprise after all, do you think you can give up your coveted best man gig to perform the ceremony for us instead?"

Jim's grin turned broad and dazzling. And at that moment Leonard figured he could overlook just once without grumbling out a snide comment the way Spock regarded Jim with fervent appreciation in his eyes, like his Captain shone brighter in his eyes than any star in the universe. 

After all, Len thought as he touched the small of Pavel's back lightly with his fingertips as they left the meeting side-by-side, he figured if Leonard McCoy was actually doing all right in the romance department these days, he damn well wouldn't stand in the way of the same for his best friends.

*****

"We could probably ask the Regalians to wait a little bit longer," Christine ventured warily as she watched Leonard pacing back and forth in the captain's ready room. 

After Jim became slotted to conduct the ceremony, Christine had taken Leonard's offer to act as his Best Woman with a great deal of graciousness. She had taken her duties seriously too, unfortunately for him, lecturing him about patience and flexibility whenever she found him holed up in his office in sickbay fretting over this or that wedding detail. 

Now her eyes followed him with a worried expression as he continued to stomp around. "I bet they could hold on for another hour or even a day, if you really think you need it."

"Well, for the life of me, I can't see the point in waiting any longer, unless it's to see if Pavel might just decide to leave me hanging at the altar," Leonard snapped. He froze and took in the time on his chrono with a panicked eye. Fifteen minutes left until he had to walk out of there and join the rest of the group standing by to witness the wedding in the ship's largest rec room. And damn his own foolhardy words, but now he wasn't thinking of how scary it was he was about to get hitched, but how terrifying it was that Pavel still had (he checked again) fourteen minutes left to change his mind.

Christine snorted. Only she could make a smug sound like that and still look stunning at the same time in her lovely blue dress uniform. "Trust me, _that's_ not going to happen." She regarded him, somehow kind and shrewd all at once. "How about you, Doctor McCoy? Any chance you'll change your mind before the 'I Do's?" 

"Not on your life," Len growled.

"It's time, then, or very nearly," Scotty said with booming cheer as he entered the room, looking resplendent in his dress kilt.

"Might as well get an early start," Len agreed as he pushed past Scotty to hustle out the door, only pausing to throw a glare back at Christine when she laughed merrily at his haste.

*****

"...and do you, Leonard Horatio McCoy, take Pavel Andreivich Chekov as your partner and husband?"

" 'Course I do," Leonard replied too loudly. He didn't even care about the murmur of laughter that went through the small crowd of their friends watching the proceedings, or Jim fighting back a silly smile as he kept on with the ceremony. Besides, all he could see was Pavel ducking his head and smiling that alluring smile of his, the kind that made Leonard want to pull him in close way before the "now you may kiss your spouse" bit. 

The rest of the ceremony (thankfully short and sweet, based as it was on the civil Federation version) melted away in a blur of words and nerves until the point when Jim asked them to join hands. 

Len took Pavel's hand in his and held on tight. It didn't even matter to him now that they'd have to beam down to the planet for a string of exhausting parties about a half hour after the marriage was completed. For the moment he just let himself gaze into those gorgeous sea-green eyes shyly meeting his and thank his stars he'd stumbled into this crazy situation. 

When Jim winked and finally got to the part where he said, " _Now_ you may kiss --" Leonard only just about managed to stay upright. At least it wasn't because he was going down in a dead faint; no, it was because Pavel had been the one to push against him frantically before Jim could get the entire sentence out, his eager soft lips meeting Leonard's welcoming mouth. 

The delighted reactions and exclamations of the onlookers around them faded into a background buzz as Len wrapped his arms around Pavel's slim frame and hung on tight, still a little stunned at what a lucky bastard he was. 

*****

Sulu insisted on taking about a million different holos with Pavel and Len and all the rest in every conceivable possible configuration, and then a million and one additional holos of Pavel and Len alone together. 

"Can't you wrap it up?" Leonard finally burst out, digging in his heels when Sulu tried to crowd them down to the Botany labs for another set of posed holos. His dress uniform itched at him like crazy, and he still had all the Regalian festivities to get through wearing it. Now he wished that he had let Pavel convince him to let those Regalian tailors stitch him into one of those brocaded velvet and silk numbers Pavel would wear to the receptions on planet. Though they were ridiculously ornate, at least those Regalian clothes seemed pretty comfortable. 

"Are you kidding?" Sulu asked, indignant, holding down his device to glare at Leonard. "I need to get the full record of all of this! It's not every day a guy's best friend gets married to the love of his life!"

"Hikaru," Pavel said in exasperation, finally looking weary himself of the continued holo opps and perhaps a little embarrassed about Sulu's testimonials about Pavel's feelings. 

"Come on, it's not like he doesn't already know at this point," Sulu said exuberantly, waving at them to hurry over to yet another background he deemed aesthetically appealing. "Besides, the guy's head over heels in love with you right back. Just look at him!"

"Well, yeah," Len grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat. "I think we've cleared that part up already."

At that, Pavel kissed him again impulsively, and Sulu let out a whoop as he captured the moment. And apparently Sulu got in a good two score more holos before even he decided it was time to tell the happy couple they could break it up already.

*****

A short while after the nonsense with the holos, Leonard managed to escape for a much-needed fortifying brandy, which Geoff and Christine had quietly supplied. In the back of his mind he knew he and Pavel and a great many of the crew members had to head down to the planet soon enough. But damn it to hell, it was his wedding day. He needed a second to let it all sink it. 

But soon enough he found his husband walking toward him, an enticing smile on his lips that Leonard felt himself mirroring as Pavel drew closer. 

"I'd say marriage agrees with you, Len," Geoff said thoughtfully as he watched Pavel approach.

"I'd say I'll drink to that," Christine put in, giving Len a completely unnecessary nudge in his ribs before she tipped her glass back.

"I'd say the two of you should keep your opinions to yourselves," Leonard snapped just in time for Pavel to arrive by his side. 

"It is now past time we must return to Regalis Prime for the celebrations," Pavel told Len, pulling his arm gently to coax him toward the transporter room. When Geoff and Christine grinned outright at the two of them, Leonard waved them off dismissively and hurried Pavel along with his arm slung around his shoulders.

Still, even knowing they had better hustle down to the planet, they didn't make it too far at first. Not with Len tilting Pavel's chin up to kiss him hard in a dark corner of the recreation room along the way, and not with Pavel tugging Leonard close in the first empty conference room they happened across for a few slow marvelous brushes of his lips against Len's neck and jaw.

"We must go immediately," Pavel insisted again, laughing breathlessly at Len nodding along in agreement even as he began kissing behind Pavel's right ear.

"Yeah, okay," he said finally, his voice low, allowing Chekov to draw him along once more. 

By the time they reached the transporter room, it was completely empty. Leonard didn't doubt that Jim and Spock and all the others of the crew attending had already made it down to Regalis Prime without them. 

"Now," Pavel said playfully when Leonard tugged him close for another kiss.

"Oh really? You want to go right now, huh?" Len teased, smoothing Pavel's rumpled silk shirt. "Is that a royal edict or something, your highness?"

Chekov looked surprised for a moment. Then he grinned wide. "No, it has nothing to do with my royal status. It is simply a request I wish you to honor as my husband," he said in a lofty tone before pulling Leonard close all on his own. 

"Yes?" Pavel asked some time later when they parted again. He took the step up to the transporter pad and held out his hand for Leonard to join him. 

"Yes," Len confirmed. He joined Pavel and squeezed his hand tight. With a nod to the ensign at the transporter controls, they beamed down to Regalis Prime to celebrate their marriage.

**~*~*~ the end ~*~*~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all! Thank you very much for reading! Come visit me at tumblr (I'm [entrenous88](http://entrenous88.tumblr.com/) over there) if you want to check out lots of Star Trek fannishness, get updates on my writing, and watch for when I open up shop for prompts.


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